Beauty regime moved to box at end of chapter

The cat looks really great these days. If that doesn't sound too weird. He was a bit baldy round the back end when we got him, because he'd had dermatitis from flea bites with his old owner. The fur stayed thin for ages, but suddenly he got a LOT fluffier. I don't know if it was that he gained enough weight to divert resources to fluffification, or if it happened when his coat changed for the season (though it wasn't spring or autumn when it happened).

He's also gained something like a kilo and a half - he's not overweight, he was just skinny before. I'm glad to know we're a good cat home. But knowing this is how he's meant to be makes me feel very sad about how hungry and flea-bitten he must have been before. Poor Gizmo. No wonder he kept trying to steal people-food when he first got here.

Well, my OU Module result was a pass 2 in the end (2:1 equivalent), which is fine and still gets me the first I wanted overall, provided I pass 60 more credits of something. But the final essay (which is what some modules do instead of an exam) only scored 67% which at the OU is a 2:2. It doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things but I'm still gutted. Especially since, looking at the mark breakdown, one of the areas I scored low in was "Clearness of expression and use of academic conventions". I just reread the essay - and I don't want to be that student who can't accept they fucked up - but it reads fine. And my referencing is all there, thorough and consistent and exactly the way I've been doing it all year. There must have been something they didn't like but I can't identify it and that makes me feel stupid.

I don't mind being told I got it wrong, but I hate not understanding what I got wrong. :( And I'm worried about doing it again. I've got another year to go and I'm hoping to do an MA after.

The kids have deaded me today.

Egdog was flailing around for breastmilk ('Mung! Mung!') from sunrise onwards. Sophie got out of bed but hid under a throw on the sofa and wouldn't speak to anyone about breakfast. After much coaxing/begging/threatening she asked for a golden syrup sandwich. Reader, I made it for her.

Then she got upset on the way to school about an older boy who had been mean to her a year ago and might be mean again when she goes up to the juniors in September - which is a valid worry! But I can't very well ask her current teacher to tell him off for something he did last year, or for something he hasn't done yet, so I had to do more coaxing and persuaded her that we would not act on this worry today, we would see how things went in September, and we would speak to her new teacher straight away if this boy caused any problems. She reluctantly went into school. Then Egdog fell over and got a bloody lip.

Egdog grumped around for ages before he would go down for his daytime nap, and when he finally did I immediately got nobbled by the Jehovah's fecking Witnesses.

School opened its doors in the afternoon for parents to come in and see the kids' work. Soph showed me and Egdog around, which was lovely except for Egdog's desire to riot in the classroom. So I spent most of it saying strained polite things while he dragged me round in circles (did I mention he pulled part of his elbow out of place last week and we had to go to A&E to get it clicked back, so now I'm paranoid about pulling on his hand too hard and all this is done with me clutching his upper arm). We left. Sophie took fifteen minutes to collect a school bag, a cello and a coat from the cloakroom.

We went to the park. Sophie had a minor spat with a friend (not entirely friend's fault) and sobbed. Egdog tried very hard to run in front of moving swings and get brained while a friend of mine was trying to tell me difficult heartfelt things about a relative with dementia.

We came home. Snacks were required. A variety of snacks. Every time I sat down someone needed another goddamn motherfucking snack.

Sophie's friend next door knocked for her and she went over. I plonked Egdog in front of autoplaying Ben and Holly while I tried to stick my brain back together. At tea time I went to reclaim Sophie. She was arsing about in her friend's onesie. She could not find her socks or her hairband. We gave up and came home.

After tea, homework! Homework is hard to focus on. We thought of adjectives for every letter of the alphabet. You can tell where we resorted to the dictionary because it suddenly goes XENOPHOBIC YAMMERING ZARATHUSTRIAN. Picture this taking place on the sofa while Egdog climbs up my knees wailing 'Mung! Mung!'

Owl takes pity on me and sends me upstairs for a break. Sophie is dissuaded from following me with homework. Ten minutes later it is bedtime. She bursts into my room and demands to make a Powerpoint presentation about pets instead. I say no. She flops around mournfully.

I read her a bedtime story after lots more flopping and claiming that she didn't WANT a story except now she DID. She pretends to fall asleep and snores loudly while I try to read.

She gets into bed. Five minutes later she wails for me because her feet are sticking out of her mosquito net. I rearrange the net and pop to the loo. It transpires she has daubed the bathroom door and doorhandles (inside and out) with toothpaste. I pop back upstairs and firmly correct her understanding of toothbrushing protocol.

Then I come downstairs to start cooking dinner for me and Owl. She comes downstairs because she is frightened of scary rabbits. I do not scream.

She is in bed. Egdog is asleep. I cook dinner. I pass Owl his plate. I sit down with my plate. Egdog wakes up and cries for mung.

Soph has been a STAR recently. Glowing school report! She swam 250 metres in total at the weekend, and this is the girl who was too scared to get in the water! So tonight I'm concetrating hard on how proud I am. Proud. So proud.

My toes are regenerating!

Also I can maybe get a LOAN for a CREATIVE WRITING MASTERS YAY

Oh hello exit polls. Still trying not to hope particularly. But I will go to sleep happier for imagining Theresa May having a shit evening.

Oh. Things in the world are so grim.

Please humour me and tell me it's still OK to enjoy things and be comforted and do self-care and stuff, even though the world is grim.

Today I was a bad cat owner. Gizmo got out while I was answering the door and I didn't realise, so I shut him out in the pouring rain. Was oblivious until half an hour later when he appeared at the back door wailing like a soggy banshee. Maybe this will cure his longing for outside.

I've never had an indoor cat and didn't think I would. But everyone says not to let ragdoll cats outside because (I may be paraphrasing here) they're so soppy they'll basically lie in front of cars going HELLO NEW FRIEND. We are on a pretty quiet road, and the most colourful wildlife we have AFAIK is foxes. (There is definitely at least one fox. Yes I mean you, manky garden-shitting fox.) But all the advice has made me paranoid, and certainly the cat has NO instinct to defend himself from marauding toddlers. He would lie there and let Egdog stomp on his belly if I didn't run interference whenever they're in the same room together. So we have decided to keep him in, or possibly we have put off deciding whether to let him out. Poor bugger gack. The world is full of bees to eat and they're almost always on the wrong side of the glass.

Well, I'm joining the exodus to Dreamwidth. That said, I haven't yet decided to get rid of the LJ and I've set things up to cross post. The list of friends who regularly post on LJ has dwindled and dwindled over the years but of those who are left, I really don't want to lose track of any of you.

I haven't updated for ages but I regularly mean to! I'm OK. Tired. Bit skint. The kids are beautiful and beloved and demanding. Egdog still sleeps like crap so we have him in our bed to minimise disruption during the regular nightly soothings. The house is very scruffy but still ours. My studies are going great, one more year to go on the Open degree if I want honours (I do!) and I think I'm on track to get a first, which feels good.

I have been having a lot of despair about the world. More anger and sadness than is useful to keep me informed and vaguely active. I stopped reading Facebook so much and that has helped. I try to keep in mind that turning my brain into a sponge to soak up horrors doesn't benefit anyone and makes me exhausted and useless.