Snack is yowling at me. He has food. Maybe it's the fact that the stool I'm sitting on, while the study is in disarray, doesn't provide a good lap shelf.
I've always asked my parents how they managed. Just be parents. They always say that they just did it, that you just do it. Taking care of Snack when he got run over was just like that. You just do it. Or even sitting up all night with Grandpa as his body hung on to life. I don't know if it's part of the collective conciousness, or just completely reactionery, situational. But taking care of the helpless comes naturally. Which is why I don't understand stories of child abuse, especially the woman in Britain who actually falsely claimed her son had epilepsy and then poisoned him with epilepsy meds, something they call Munchausen by proxy, a mental illness that involves afflicting others so you can heal them. Or the woman in New Jersey who tortured her sons. And the stories that never make it to the news.
The St. Louis Attraction Association Participants stared at us blankly today. I guess part of the purpose of our presentation was to convey that "Making your Web site more effective" isn't a piece of cake. But I think we did it too well. The director of marketing for the President Casino looked a little stunned when I told him we weren't interested in helping for-profit organizations. No, no, no. Even if I end up waiting tables for the rest of my life trying to get this enterprise off the ground.
I'm glad I have friends houses I can sit around in my boxers like it's my own living room. That's living.
1:03:23 AM
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