supplicium post mortem

Turns out not to be such a dream come true. Actually, it takes all the satisfaction out of misbehaving. I still haven’t started my skool reports (which were due yesterday), and TL was actually reduced to bribing me tonight. OK, Casey, she sez when we finish walking the dogs, if we get pizza for dinner, then will you do your homework? You should have heard the pathetic pleading in her voice. Not like the TL marky used to call the Vamp (not cuz she vamped for men, but because it seemed like she never slept). I swear she must be cracking up, except there’s nothing fun about it. So we get the pizza and she tries to tell me I can’t watch t.v. until my homework is done, and I’m like, But Miss Lincoln, you don’t want me to eat dinner in front of the computer, so I’m just going to watch like 15 minutes while I eat. She sighs and goes off somewhere, and – long story short – I watch about an hour of The Devil Wears Prada, then the phone rings twice and the next thing you know it’s too late to start homework. So I win.

Except I don’t.  My stupid homework still isn’t done, and I know I’ve been a lazy cow, and there’s no one to help me with either one. In fact, for the record, here is the sum total of my useful accomplishments today:

• gave wolfhound bi-yearly shower (harder than it sounds) and post-shower grooming
• laundry
• writing in notebook
• showed some kid how to use excel to calculate averages
• explained to another kid what dew point means
• signed up for twitter – tho’ TL says I am forbidden to Tweet and if I do, even once, I’m going to be grounded from the internet for a week – and that’s just for the first offense. To be completely truthful, I don’t put much store by her threats, but I’m not planning to tweet because the fact is I have nothing to tweet about and no one to follow me even if I did. It would just depress me.

my slipper wot RP used to employ at times

Before, when I had bad days and felt useless and unaccomplishing, RP always had something to say about it. If I wound up getting in trouble (for that or something else), it helped cope with the frustration and self-loathing. Now, there is nothing to help me cope. I’m screwing up right, left, and center and all I’ve got is TL sighing at me, looking at me sadly in a way that says, You’re only hurting yourself. Well, I know that, don’t I? But what are you going to do about it? Answer: zilch. Hurrah for modern childhood. :-<

the business end (well worn, you'll note)