I couldn't bring myself to unpack that last bag of games and DVDs, so it is still sitting on the floor by the table...sort of tucked out of sight.

I did empty the dishwasher, fill the bird feeders, and watch Fancy sleep some more.

And, of course, I ended up working some since the wretched host of one of our websites pulled the site down yesterday. We had been trying to get control of the domain and are planning to switch to another host once he had uploaded our files to the new host. Once we were awarded the domain from the registrant, he pulled the files. He will not upload them without a "consulting" fee that has tripled since we first asked him to do this a month ago. SIGH.

I tried to negotiate with him to put the site back up while he waits for our check for his "consulting" invoice and then offered to give him my credit card to just pay the thing and finish off with him. Apparently, my credit card is fine for his hosting fee, but not for his "consulting" fee. So there was much shenanigans on my part to try and get a check processed and overnighted to him. DOUBLE SIGH.


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Bettina's daughter E slept with me at the cabin on Saturday night and awoke before her parents did and long before I wished her to do so. At my house, I had an alarm clock she could watch to wait for the time she could officially "awake."

Before I started really coughing and woke officially myself, she tried to be quiet by whispering her chatter instead of speaking normally. I might have been able to ignore it had she not been directing her observations and queries directly toward me, rather helpfully repeating them if she heard no grunting response.

The night before, I had taken down the railing and moved her to the side of the bed by the wall because I just knew that the during the night I would knock the whole thing down while trying to climb over her to visit the necessity. When I suggested that she check to see if her parent were awake, she tried very carefully to get out of the bed without climbing over me. On her second trip, I suggested she just go ahead and step on me.

Each time she stepped on my arm or leg or stomach, she would whisper her apology before making her next move. One trip to the bathroom. One trip for books. Two trips to check on her parents. Perhaps the laughter I tried to stifle at her kind attention to my feelings about being mashed was the reason I had an asthma attack!