Milla, desiring to become the next FooPet idol, sings bland, corporate lyrics over and over while washing dishes. I am grateful she is washing the dishes; I am not grateful for her musical choice while doing so.

Isabel slumbers, stirring quietly as she dreams.  She likes to stand on boxes.  Tonight the box she chose was minuscule and unsteady, which caused her to topple over on her back, banging her head and making her cry.  Only Mama and milky could soothe.

My body does not want me to eat pancakes. It lets me know in no uncertain terms that eating pancakes is not an activity it will allow, and that if I do, I will suffer.

Why won’t Safari give me the option of saving my passwords?  The box that offers such a convenience is checked.  I don’t like typing them each time.