I don't have grass. I had bacon for breakfast. The seven year old is having her Sims dance. The 10 year old doesn't want to keep his pants on. Snow'd be nice for a change. I should go have a shower and do something with myself. I suppose I should get these kids out of the house for a few hours. Don't want to though. Too much like work 
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'...
At poor peace I sing
To you strangers (though song
Is a burning and crested act,
The fire of birds in
The world's turning wood,
For my sawn, splay sounds,)
...'
Dylan Thomas, Author's Prologue
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