Money is tight. Like, tight. Divorce’ll do that.
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Kids are money pits. They wonderful, but they do eat a lot, and they break things. Expensive things. For no reason. Scratch a $1,500 lens here, out of the blue. Stick a magnet against your $200 watch there to see what will happen, out of the blue. Break a toy and then break another toy. Squeeze the toothpaste all over the bathroom.
There’s no point doing any scolding because each case is new. It’s absolutely true that you’ve never told them not to cut a textbook up with scissors before. And you also never told them not to try to dye their clothes with markers. And so on.
You can try abstract concepts like “please try to take care of things, rather than ruin them,” but the fact is that kids don’t generally know the proper way to care for things, or at what threshold and set of characteristics a thing is called “ruined,” and there are just far too many potential cases in the average household to elaborate them all (not that they’d remember them all of you did).
It’s the school of life. The lesson not to jump up out of the blue and slam-dunk pieces of nature on your lens front element while laughing happens precisely on the occasion of this occuring. There’s no other occasion for it; that’s when it came up.
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There are too many things to keep track of, too many moving parts in general in life. And too many urgent things.
It is proving difficult to advance at this stage of the game because life consists almost entirely of running around trying to keep things under control and not burning to the ground.
But it certainly doesn’t make me happy that no progress seems to be happening anywhere.
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I’ve always thought that long, wavy grass was far prettier than mowed grass. Still do.
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I don’t know what this blog post is about. As usual, over the course of the last couple of days I’ve had a hundred thousand things pass in one side of my head and out the other that I imagined ought to go into a blog post. And now that I’m here, I’m just plain half asleep and blank.