Still feeling a wee bit manic, but not in a destructive way. It's hard to be taken seriously when your manias consist of reading tonnes of Flashman books as quickly as possible and starting new knitting projects. Credit cards remain unmaxed, and although I did do a lot of shopping at Knit-o-matic last Saturday, I used Christmas cash that I found in a drawer which is like just finding yarn in the street as far as my budget is concerned. Plus, it was a cash sale, so I got tonnes and tonnes of yarn for a low low price. Love it. And despite my touch of mania, I'm still not having compulsive anonymous sex with moustachioed gents at the local sports bar, so that's good too.
Tomorrow I'll write about Hestia's birthday and the various body fluids that had to be cleaned up in its aftermath. For today, a little slice of verbal pie. This morning I was having an argument with Blake and he told me to shut up.
"We've talked about why you don't say those words. It's ugly. I want you to stop."
"When I get big I'm going to get my own car and nobody will be in it and I'll say all the words you don't want me to say."
Cut to bedtime, and Blake's all over me. "Let's play Belly Bit. I didn't say bitch. I said bit."
"You have got to stop saying those words. Just let them stay inside you. And we'll put it on the list of things you'll say when you get your own car."
"Yeah. Fuck. Bitch. And shut up. We can make a list of these don't-saying words."
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Don't make me send out the Blake. He doesn't listen to *anyone.*