When I came home, I found Ruan, my stepson, writhing on the floor and crying out in pain, which was exasperating. I know that sounds callous, but the problem was that I returned home yesterday to exactly the same scene, and a trip to the hospital yielded the diagnosis that he was extremely constipated. The kid won't eat fruit, he, like many 10 year olds, would prefer to live solely on fried sausage, pizza, and McDonald's. And I hate to say it, but I had work to do- lots of work to do. It was, and is, piling up around me. And Carnaval starts tomorrow, did I mention that?
Now I'm sitting here waiting for a page to load on my new office broadband connection at a whopping 150kbps. Yes, I have broadband, that's another story, and it's slow, and expensive, but I don't think that's why I'm having to wait. After all, I'm streaming Last.fm no problem, this appears to be a problem back home in Vermont at the server, or some weirdness in the pipe between here and there. At times I feel like these things conspire to drive me mad with frustration, like the other thing I'm doing, which is trying to back up about 40 gigs in two gig chunks on my mp3 player- over a USB 1.0 connection. It's... taking... forever...
The page still hasn't loaded so I guess I can write some more. When I embarked on this blog enterprise I read that I shouldn't use jargon, so for those of you who can't be bothered, please ignore the numbers and acronyms in the above paragraph.
Ah! The page loaded. I'll do some work now.