What is going on today?
I’m not sure.
But tomorrow is the Monkey Rodeo.

Also, just five weeks left of this summer. At this moment I really don’t know how I feel about it. I’m not happy about it but at the same time I think I could certainly use the distraction.

I wish it was “fuck it”.
I don’t even think it is actually “oh well”, despite all the posturing and practice.
It is more of an, “I care a lot but will pretend to be completely complacent with inevitable disappointment and malcontent”.

Pretty much the same thing, I guess.

“Well, you may be right,” said Fiver. “That Vilthuril’s a beautiful doe. I’d like a chance to know her better.”

I’m sort of almost complacent about it, surprisingly.

Too busy.

My Aunt Macel and Uncle Bruce have an alpaca farm. So I speak with some level of experience when I say that alpacas are the most infuriatingly frustrating animals in the world. You have these little beasties, about chest-high, covered in soft fluff, and sporting the cutest, big-eyed anime faces to ever evolve in a pack animal—and yet, alpacas do not like to be touched. It’s ridiculous. Clearly, if any animal was made for hugging, it’s an alpaca. But if you try it, they will spit on you, and possibly bite. At best, they will permit a cursory pat on the head—if, and only if, you are also feeding them alfalfa pellets at the same time.

Get home. Get sane. Come back. Stay sane.

What did I say yesterday?