Sup, G

Just checking in. I've been busy for the last few days and haven't had a chance to check email/blog/read blogs/CGR/stuff.

Sigh. I'll be happy when we've got the net at home. Should be this week. Then this blog will get fancied up big time, since I'll only have Lori trying to get on the computer I'll have time to do stuff.

The BT (British Telecom) engineer came today. Even though they had told me the fault MUST be internal, it wasn't. It was external. Our house is fine, it's just their dumbass cables. So someone should be out tomorrow to sort that. Then I'll be calling BT to get them to take a lot of money off of our bill.

Lori decided today while she was cleaning the dishes (since I've been relegated to drying duties)that she wanted to test her strength. She took the first thing she found into her hand, in this case a glass, and squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeezed with all her might.

Then screamed. The poor baby cut herself on it. I had no idea what to do, so I thought about what my dear mum would have done in that situation. It didn't help. So I sent her upstairs to put her hand under the tap (with the water flowing, duh). Then discovered we didn't have any plasters (which Lori didn't understand, so band-aids for most of you). So I drove her to my parents house.

She didn't pass out, die or anything. Just cried and shouted and screamed. And bled, Lori adds.

Now she has a snazzy see through plaster, second skin style stuff. Futuristic. I'm jealous of it.

I've just been given into trouble. Lori wants me to stress that she was, in fact, not testing her strength. She was merely cleaning the glass over-vigorously. "And it crumbled in my hends!".

I replaced the "a" in hands with "e" because Southerners only have one vowel. Goodnight, you've been a lovely audience.