Yesterday somebody at work chided me for not posting more frequently. I only mention it because it coincided with my inner chiding. Not that I have interesting things pent up waiting to share with the world. To the contrary, when I sit down and think "I should write a letter/e-mail/post/grocery list," I spend 15 minutes debating between paper and electronic, which paper or program, laptop or desktop, patio, familyroom or bedroom, coffee or tea. By the time I am done
My stepfather is doing alright. He's still recovering from a lot of swelling, but, considering the circumstances, he seems to be okay.
Candice, our previous daycare provider, is still in the hospital, but conscious. She isn't being very cooperative, which is making the recovery more difficult.
Mason is doing very well at the new daycare, and I am mostly used to the new lady.
Work is work. Plenty to complain about, but even more to be thankful for. If there wasn't anything to complain about, I think I'd be awfully bored.