What I'm excited about:

Marcus booked us a beach vacation. We had no choice, really: Alex came to me the other day, indescribably dejected:

Alex: sigh

Me: What?

Alex: SIGH

Me: What?!

Alex: SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGH

Me: Alexis Rhys, WHAT?!

Alex: It's just that .. it's just .. it's.. Mummy? It's ... I .... I don't think I remember how to build a sandcastle!

So we booked a holiday. It's not that we felt sorry for her, you understand; it was more that we felt her Oscar-worthy performance deserved a reward.


What I'm limping about:

Given the impending beach holiday, I enrolled myself in Boot Camp -- hey, desperate times call for desperate measures, man. So I registered, and the drill-sergeant-of-a-trainer kicked the snot out of me, what with her inverse-crunches-this, and drop-and-give-me-20-that. As a result, I'm in some serious pain; so bad, in fact, that this morning as I was about to leave for work, Marcus noticed my gait and said, 'What time did you roll into town, pardner?'

And yes, now he walks with a limp.


What I'm relieved about:

As of this writing, we have a toilet, two working sinks with faucets, and a working shower in the Pink and Blue Bathroom That Would Not Die. This is of particular relief to me because late next week, some friends are visiting. Dan and Laura, you can relax: I'm not going to refuse to feed you in the hope you wouldn't have to go to the bathroom (like I promised), and there apparently is no need to dig a hole in the back yard anymore. The downside, of course, is that you won't be able to relieve yourselves by the light of the disco ball.