Buster’s promenade

He came back about 5 am after an evening catting around, and demanded, importuned, and got up in my grill for skritches.  Then he abused Margot for a while, who is starting to have tics from all the chasing around, she’s permafreaked.

I’m reading Amanda Palmer’s The Art of Asking.  She is a very remarkable person.  Check out her TED talk.

I’m off the grocery store to get what I need for foodicles for the Beacon Congregational Dinner and the chili for the Anti_superbowl_musicfest on Sunday.  Much cooking.

Went to Fish the same day Paul and I went to the Foreshore park and picked up a PERFECT haddock filet, which Jeff and I devoured with happiness.  Last night it was a really yummy pork chomp with taters and red pepper and tomato.  I was going to make it like a greek salad but the feta was growing a most interesting and scary kind of mold, sigh.

Back to the CPAP machine.  Two hours of not sleeping, followed by maybe one hour of sleeping with the mask on, at which point I woke up and ripped it off.  This morning both of my eyes were stuck shut.  If I am going to continue I have to solve the dry eyes problem.  Apparently I don’t have enough grease in my eyes.  I am disgusted by the prospect of seeing a doctor about it, so I may just use hospital tape and tape my eyes shut, a solution that at least has the advantage of being cheap.  I may also get Omega three oils, if I can find one that doesn’t give me heartburn flavoured like the ass end of a fishing trawler.

Sandy’s toilet is now running again after much stupidity and spending of money and waiting for plumbers.  I hope to the incorporeal remnants of religion that she sells the place this year, as much as I don’t want her to because I love the house and campground.  Paul wants to take me out there for a flying visit at some point and I am much pleased by this notion.

I am FINALLY back on the writing horse, 600 words yesterday and with luck I’ll get something done today. Reading Amanda Palmer helps.