A productive day. Paper was pushed around, windows were stared wistfully out of and internet scoured for pornography.

Such is the hectic whirl in which I find myself.

The hamster story has now been aired in the comments section (although I added the 'squeak' for dramatic effect - the indelible memory informs me that it was actually more of a crunch.) Still a memory that makes one's stomach lurch in a guilt-ridden fashion. As said earlier in this journal, pets never lasted long in my childhood, and not all passed away as a result of the nearby road. And this wasn't even my own hamster (my mother wisely forbade such things - I think she was worried my brother would conduct experiments on it and create an army of mutated rodents with a craving for human brains.)

I do actually have another hamster story. But this one is even worse (although I wasn't the creature killer this time, merely a horrified witness to an elderly person's tragic error) so I shall save it for a really slow news day. When nobody is looking.

Had another look at what I hope will be my apartment in a few months (assuming all the ducks line up) - so far we have the jacuzzi in the plans, and the cinema laid out. A friend has suggested some 'plants' for the balcony with the proviso he gets to harvest them. I may pass on that one (thus getting a black mark for debauched behaviour, but a A+ from my remaining brain cells)

Tomorrow, I shall be booking a trip to Disney for me and first-born. Euro-Disney, that is (I just can't face the aggravation of US immigration.) It means suspending my innate cynicism for 3 days, and enduring shows where Tigger speaks with a Texan drawl while Pooh sounds like a Parisian tramp, but first-born loves it. And, I have to admit it, so do I. In small doses.