I hate February a little in the way that water is a smidge wet. I’ve been actively trying to remember to pronounce the first R in the stupid month,
I’ve made it to March and nobody died, which is always a good thing. All progress on anything house related has ground to a halt. I promised myself I didn’t have to do a thing as long as I’m back to school. A PhD is looking more appealing every time I contemplate finishing painting the stairway. I toyed briefly with the thought of giving up knitting for Lent, but in the same way that I toy with driving past my exit on the turnpike on my way to work in the morning and driving straight on ’til Florida. My brain likes to come up with crazy scenarios like that to amuse me.
Knock on wood the girls are both plague free. Claire is still impressed with having had a fever for three days and talks fondly about the good ol’ days (six weeks ago) when she Had A Fever. She’s registered for preschool and asks how much longer until fall at least once a week. Anna has pierced ears now and is wearing ladybug earings today. She’s got a thing for ladybugs. She gives them baths (drowns them) and water to drink (drowning them) and plants to eat (I don’t believe ladybugs eat poinsettia leaves, but I could be wrong) and sneaks them to church (I also didn’t know ladybugs were Catholic). It’s an improvement over the days when she had a collection of lovingly named pillbugs for her “friends.”