squirrelly

Today I was *going* to post an entry entitled

THINGS I HAVE TO STOP DOING SO I WON'T BE SO ANGRY ALL THE TIME AND I DON'T SPEND ALL DAY IMAGINING MYSELF AS A GIANT RADIOACTIVE BEAR THAT BREATHES FIRE AND CAN MAKE PEOPLE'S EYES BLEED JUST BY THINKING ABOUT IT AND WHILE THEY ARE BLEEDING FROM SAID EYES I ENVELOPE THEM IN FLAMES AND THEN FEAST ON THEIR FIRE-BLACKENED BONES

and it was going to be quite a list, let me tell you.

But then Oona and I stopped to watch some squirrels this morning. There's a sprawling house just a bit kitty-corner to her daycare (I say 'sprawling' because it has, for example, a side veranda that goes on for about fifty feet) and it made C cry when it went on the market and it was too expensive for us (I didn't cry at all, having seen The Money Pit) and it's home to about a thousand squirrels of all shapes and sizes and many days these squirrels run relays on the telephone lines over the street, these leaping silhouettes racing back and forth, and sometimes there's so many running so many different ways that Oona and I just stop and watch and laugh and try to count them (badly).

So that lifted my mood.

Slightly.