Thanks to Cameron for a) yanking me out of my mood, and b) general conversation.  You are quite good for conversing with.  {{It's because you're tall.}}

Unrelated: "Nothing" usually means "something."
Figure it out.

So Mum's surgery went well enough.  She's doped up on coedine {I'm not really sure, actually -- regardless, she's doped up} and reclining in splendour upon the couch.  Caroline and Tori are camping out with her downstairs tonight.  She can wiggle her toes and cough and do all sorts of fun stuff without sciatic mayhem.  As Martha says, "It's a good thing."  {And she's letting us stay home for a while tomorrow.  Granted, it's for medical reasons, but still!  Yes, I'm a selfish opportunist.  Don't remind me.}

I went to Starbucks twice in twelve hours.  Under twelve hours, even.  How sad is that?

Um, yeah.  So Macbeth opens tomorrow.  And runs through Saturday night, with a Sunday matinee.  Same schedule for next week, too.  Evening shows are at 7:30, Sunday is at 2:00.  Seniors can try to wrangle extra credit with theatre or English teachers (or both).  No idea how much it costs -- I've never paid for a play at the Centre for the Arts yet.  And yeah.  Because people have gotten onto me for not saying anything about it, lol.  Macbeth has a really awesome death scene.  You should come just to see that.  It's gruesomely fantastic.

I'm tired.  Physically, mentally tired.  I'd say spiritually too, but I'm not really a religious person to begin with, so it doesn't count.  {Lots of reasons that I prefer not to discuss in a public forum.}

A tes souhaits et tes amours.