too much

Have you ever had those times when you ignore things like daily mail and cooking and cleaning and all those little entropy-fighting things that don't take that much time but are kind of a pain? And then when you do finally get to them, they take for-bleedin'-EVER? Because you haven't been keeping up? Of course you have. I know my readers. I know we all do this. Anyone who doesn't do this is some evil demon in almost-human form. This time, on top of all the mail and cooking and cleaning and all, I have birthday cards that I bought after the pertinent birthday and that I have yet to send. So I must send them, because then I will feel better. And maybe the recipient will, too, because they will know that I have not dumped them as friends and first cousins once removed. That reminds me that I have not responded to my own birthday card from a college friend who I really, really owe a letter. At least an email. It's so hard to email when you haven't emailed for so long. Either you write a tome that takes an hour and a half to write and 20 minutes to read, possibly boring the friend to a sock-free state, or else you write two sentences that basically say I'm still alive and how are you? Then the sock is on the other foot, or the email guilt is in the other inbox. And the friend writes back immediately with a nicely detailed (but not too detailed) description of her life and plans and all, and it is the right length and she even includes a photo, and then it's all back on you. aargh.

A good friend of mine has a big horrible nasty ORAL exam tomorrow - GOOD LUCK, FRIEND!!!! You'll do GREAT!!! And I will send and am already sending good thoughts and prayers your way, so that you will think clearly and calmly and creatively (and I know you will), and that when it is all over, you will wait until you get home before you break into hysterics. But if you don't wait, that's okay, too. Always remember that DONE IS GOOD! :-)

And "Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood" was actually pretty good. The writing wasn't top notch, but it got better, and who am I to criticize? A loud and annoying yet somehow admirable (as in, one should admire her but she drives most of us crazy) woman at choir was complaining about the butt of someone on "Dance with the Stars" (or whatever) the other day, and I thought that she really was not one to criticize anyone's butt. Hers is quite large. Not larger than mine, mind you, but not the seat of a butt critic. So perhaps I shouldn't criticize the writing in DSOFYYS ... but I do anyway. The story was pretty good. Had everything in it but the kitchen sink, actually. The message was good. Then I read Terry Pratchett, and while it ("Eric") was not one of his best, it was still better than most stuff out there, and it made me laugh. I don't know what I'll do when I have read all the Terry Pratchetts. I might go insane.