March 6th, 2002


(no subject)

Girl Scout cookies are insidious. I've now eaten a third of a tray of the peanut butter cup cookie things and I really do want to eat more, but I don't think I will.

I am tired.

Work is still juggling, but it's now seven completely different colored balls. They're still balls, though, and they don't seem to mind getting dropped now and again, and I'm finding dropped balls under the desk, the meeting room, the computer, the back of my dusty brain, and all through my e-mail. A little dusty, a little forlorn, but they still juggle nicely.

Jet's still sick. John's still sick. I'm still tired, but able to eat whatever I want and it's getting a little tiring. Still, Carl's March gift of plums arrived, and they are gorgeous and sweet as honey, with tart, smooth skins that yield nicely to the teeth. They will last at least the week, so Jet and John will get their tastes, too.

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