I feel EVER so much better today. Don’t be afraid to read my journal now; it might be still boring but it won’t be a downer. Not intentionally, anyway.

The hardened ice cream story is really my daughter’s story; if she would like to guest-post, everyone just tell her to feel free.

She would also tell the Boone’s Farm/assorted cheap wines story better. I sat in such shock through that conversation, I’m not sure I remember it well enough to tell it right.

As for my tardy, I’d-hate-to-have-her-nerve-in-a-tooth student of last night, well, it’s my own fault if I’m such a gutless wonder at my age. I’ll grade her exam later tonight. Much later. Maybe after I’ve sat through the three Harry Potter movies, the Star Wars trilogy, and War and Peace. Oh, and surely there are a few Christmas specials on tv tonight. And I really ought to make some phone calls, and do some cleaning.

But I’ll get it graded. Later. After I wrap some Christmas gifts and organize some tax papers. And the cat needs a new flea collar; that always requires at least a half-hour and some major holding-down and sweet-talking. And that’s just to get the old collar OFF. Add another fifteen minutes to get the new collar back on. Well, I don’t want him to be TRAUMATIZED. . . . .

And then I’ll grade her exam. After I cruise Ebay and Amazon and Half for some last-minute ideas, and drive a few bags of clothing to town, to the Goodwill station.

But then I’ll grade her test. Honest I will. I have to; it’s my job. I take my job very seriously, and I try to be conscientious and sincere in its every aspect. So I will grade her test.

After I organize my kitchen spice cabinet, and throw out all the old pediatric medicines that have been in the bathroom cabinet for over twenty years. And everyone would surely agree that it is ridiculous for me to hold onto that bottle of nausea-prevention pills that were prescribed for my first pregnancy over twenty years ago. And after I empty out those two cabinets, it would be a perfect time to scrub them before putting all the still-good stuff back into them.

I knew it had been a while since I’d cleaned out the magazine basket, but could anyone guess what I found at the bottom of mine? The “TIME” magazine with Pope John Paul the FIRST on the cover. It’s a good thing nobody else saw it there, or it would have been very embarassing indeed. And I’m counting on all of you not to tell my mother.

I also have all the Princess Diana Death magazines but I kept those on purpose.

It was embarassing enough when my mom found all those tiny toddler clothes at the bottom of a clothes basket that had high school-age clothes on the top.

Sometimes it takes me a while to put things away.

Get over it.

I’m lonesome today. Why don’t some of you come over and visit. I’ll blow the dust off a box of cocoa (expiration date unnecessary) and we’ll listen to some music and chat.

And then I’ll grade her exam.