The day's movies included something involving an attempted exorcism that turned into the exorcist attempting to strangle the potentially-possessed woman so that she would not destroy his church, and then Once Upon a Time in Mexico (again). My position, which evidently conflicts with the position of one of the phlebotomists, is that Antonio Banderas is more hot than Johnny Depp.
My exit from the place was delayed by the necessity of refilling the water bottle from the drinking fountain, and a swearing man headed to the bathroom. I missed the bus by only a few minutes -- the bus pulled up to the stop as I was headed for the intersection, and departed by the time the light changed for me to cross the second street. With the month of "Please try our service again!" cellphone service from Cricket, I called home and let Marx know I was running late.
I managed, even with the late start, to make it home in time to pick up the Little Fayoumis. He had two sheets of homework, but did make it to the morning recess, music class, and about two minutes of the lunch recess, but may or may not have gotten free time. This is a definite improvement from three to five sheets of homework. He finished them quietly, on his own, without asking for help. That was partly because we made it clear that we were busy, and he shouldn't be interrupting.
I discussed with marxdarx the potential schedule mangling that will have to take place for both of us to be able to work. I'll have to swap out either my Friday or my Saturday for Wednesday, probably my Saturday as he's going to just go weekends (I think). I sketched a schedule with high-lighters to represent the overlap. I need to get a good comconsole program for that, except I don't know jack about graphics, and what I need is transparency to overlap different people's schedules visually.
eris_raven did indeed barf on my floor. The running consensus is either that she eats too fast on occasion, or (highly likely) that she pretends to be a vacuum cleaner and on occasion vacuums up something that irritates her pointy little stomach. It's generally isolated incidents, and there's no particular pattern to it that I can discern. The ejected material looks like half-digested dry cat food.
The Little Fayoumis finally got his strawberries (and whipped cream) tonight. Yesterday afternoon and into the evening, we had to go shopping. And given that Mommy was at work, we took the bus. We had several minutes to wait at the Metrocenter station, so I let him run around for a bit. I told him how far he could go, and he was being very good... and then he had to push the limits. Corner time. Bus arrived, got on bus, put him back in the corner, and then we had a "discussion" (me lecturing) about all the reasons why going out of bounds was not a good plan. He thought that the corner and the lecture was going to be it. But when we got home, we discussed how eligible for dessert he was: half dessert, I decreed. Strawberries, but without the whipped cream.
Without the whipped cream! Oh, no. End of the world time. The waterworks turned on. Marx emerged, and heard the problem recounted. There were exhortations to stop being upset about it, to which the young gentleman cannily replied that if he had ice-cream, he wouldn't be so upset! This was firmly quashed by Marx, but with the "You should not let lack of a material thing affect your happiness" lecture rather than the "Bribery is not supported in this household, mister!" lecture. All in all, there was no dessert in Mudville. Not until tonight, at least.
I had fun talking with sionainn on the phone last night. Assorted joy and all that. She's getting more difficult to track down in the spare time that I have.
I'm making bread. Yes, leavened. Don't look at me like that.
marxdarx is off at his training session, and won't be home until probably after 10. Same tomorrow. I get to muck about with my schedule yet again, and I'll probably be working Wednesday/Friday/Sunday. We'll see.
LF came and spent time with me in my room this evening. My room is one of the exciting, dangerous, forbidden places, mostly because it's generally messy and the "You do not even come in here!" rule was instituted when he was very small and kept touching when told not to touch. He may eventually learn that it's really quite boring in here. I expect that I will grant him back visitation rights to my room on a more regular basis now that he's actually doing as told a lot of the time for me. Then, if he does get out of hand, it is something that can be taken away. Since my room's a minor disaster area now, he wound up stuck on the beanbag chair. I was quietly typing a conversation with simonicon and cleaning up random things, and he found that very boring. We eventually had a conversation about interesting things, just as FatherSir used to do. This time we wound up talking about electricity and the human body. We were having a great time listening to music when bedtime hit.
The Little Fayoumis was put to bed without any untoward fussing, and lights were out within half an hour of bedtime, complete with fully brushed teeth, pajamas, and the book from school read. It often takes until after nine to get him to bed for other people. If I could bottle it and sell it, I swear I would.