01/05/2002 - 3:50 p.m.

It's got three holes that are constantly oozing.

Here's an irony for all the Diarylanders out there, you know how just about every diarist has some entry about how they hope they're being read and they want readers? Well, I found a diary today, it hasn't been updated for over five months, and the leading entry read something to the effect of "I know only one person reads this diary, and that makes me want to keep writing here". Stuff like that makes me laugh.

I'm supposed to be doing dishes. Well, not so much doing dishes as loading the dishwasher. It's still a pain in the ass, I have to hunt up all the dirty dishes in the house, well, not counting the upstairs I guess, but my brother likes to leave glasses all over the place- drives me nuts.

31 days until camp starts!

Heard from one of my campers today. I don't like writing back to some of them, especially if they intend to hear back. I don't know what to say. I suppose I could just write what I'd expect Paul McCartney to write if he were to send me a letter, but that's not quite the same thing because I've never met him. The age difference and the not knowing what to say would probably be about right though.

I'm kind of glad I'm not going to be unit staff this summer. I don't know, I like kids, but not long term. Campers, however, they go home at the end of the week. You've got a whole new set to replace them, you may not seem them again for a couple of months at least. However, if I had children, I would probably trade them in at the end of the first month when I was pissed off and tired of them. I'm not a motherly type. Crazy aunt type, oh yes, I got that down, take the kid out feed it full of things it shouldn't have and come up with something strange for it to do- convince it to like operas or teach it the finer points of learning poems or something refined yet odd for a child. And, as long as it went away after a while, I would love it. However, I hold out very little hope of my brother's procreation in any manner that might be deemed acceptable by the discerning public (or private, for that matter).

Dishes...