(no subject)
The boys and I watched Cast Away last night. I love that movie. I love Tom Hanks. I love the music.
WIILLSSOONN!
Anyway.
This morning my mother was off to sing on the radio, so it was up to me to get the kitchen cleaned and hoovered with the borrowed hoover that has no suction. I became industrious and even hoovered underneath the sofa cushions, which looked like they hadn't been done since the last time I did them (six months ago!)
Then, since I had just spent half an hour hoovering up dog hair, I took Molly outside and gave her a good brush. I am interesting in weighing just how much excess fluff came off her.
We went on a walk then, to deliver a package to E's family (who I was giving out about the other day :P) that had come to our house accidentally. I went to the front door and rang the bell; when there was no answer I went in. I could see a fire lit in the sitting room, but there was no one around; just as I was going to check the kitchen Martin, E's father, came along.
'Martin!' I said. 'Sorry, but I didn't know if you were down the farm or anything...'
'Oh, I know well,' he said. 'Is this for me, is it? Thanks very much. I heard your mother on the radio this morning, she's very good. I suppose you were listening to her?'
'Er...'
He looked at me knowingly. 'Still in bed, were you?'
'Yeah, actually,' I grinned. I feel bad giving out about E's family now; Martin and E's brother, Gavin, are very nice. It's just E herself... I used to like her a lot, but once she turned eighteen she changed drastically. I was shocked when I went out with her and Sinead that one time and she kept pressuring me to have a drink. Grah.
Somehow, I don't think I'll turn out the same way when I turn eighteen, LOL. My birthday's next Thursday. My friends keep asking me if I'm doing anything for it, but I'm honestly not that psyched. There's nothing I want to DO once I turn eighteen.
I didn't get any homework or studying done; instead, I spent the day drawing a still life for Art of a plant and a wine bottle. I mean, that was HOMEWORK but I couldn't help feeling guilty because I was enjoying myself.
WIILLSSOONN!
Anyway.
This morning my mother was off to sing on the radio, so it was up to me to get the kitchen cleaned and hoovered with the borrowed hoover that has no suction. I became industrious and even hoovered underneath the sofa cushions, which looked like they hadn't been done since the last time I did them (six months ago!)
Then, since I had just spent half an hour hoovering up dog hair, I took Molly outside and gave her a good brush. I am interesting in weighing just how much excess fluff came off her.
We went on a walk then, to deliver a package to E's family (who I was giving out about the other day :P) that had come to our house accidentally. I went to the front door and rang the bell; when there was no answer I went in. I could see a fire lit in the sitting room, but there was no one around; just as I was going to check the kitchen Martin, E's father, came along.
'Martin!' I said. 'Sorry, but I didn't know if you were down the farm or anything...'
'Oh, I know well,' he said. 'Is this for me, is it? Thanks very much. I heard your mother on the radio this morning, she's very good. I suppose you were listening to her?'
'Er...'
He looked at me knowingly. 'Still in bed, were you?'
'Yeah, actually,' I grinned. I feel bad giving out about E's family now; Martin and E's brother, Gavin, are very nice. It's just E herself... I used to like her a lot, but once she turned eighteen she changed drastically. I was shocked when I went out with her and Sinead that one time and she kept pressuring me to have a drink. Grah.
Somehow, I don't think I'll turn out the same way when I turn eighteen, LOL. My birthday's next Thursday. My friends keep asking me if I'm doing anything for it, but I'm honestly not that psyched. There's nothing I want to DO once I turn eighteen.
I didn't get any homework or studying done; instead, I spent the day drawing a still life for Art of a plant and a wine bottle. I mean, that was HOMEWORK but I couldn't help feeling guilty because I was enjoying myself.