There are way too many anti-epileptic drugs. And there are way, WAY too many benzodiazepines. And I wish I wasn't having to rewrite these many, many pages.
Someone has nominated me for the monthly most-frazzled-worker award, so I'm feeling guilty whenever I hit LJ (but rewriting is boooorrring!).
My aunt reports:
Today, Dan, John and I had for lunch left-over lasagne, and garlic bread.
Gill and Stuart are at The House working on the third floor windows.
John did wiring.
Dan worked on the ceiling party-wall channel, which he says should be done soon.
Dave is languishing in his bed of pain.
Cheers all, Helen
So I sent my love to the reciprocating saw.
Jen and Mike and I went over to Granny's apartment on Tuesday to mark the stuff we wanted on the inventory. It's lucky we're a small family -- the balance between "I don't want to be greedy" and "But I really want that!" was hard to maintain as it was. It was tiring (I swear, her one apartment EASILY has enough stuff to fill our going-to-be-three) and sometimes quite emotional and what I really want, of course, is for nothing to ever change and my grandparents to be just where they always were, in their house, with their things, drinking tea (or, depending on the time of day, rum and soda). But that's life for you, innit? Anyway, I bagged the two portraits of my mother.