There's a lot of noise happening outside my house right now. They're working on pipes or something. There seems to be a motor involved. My coffee's cold and I have a million things to do in the next six hours. I don't know why I'm blogging when I have nothing much to say. Just a way to fend off the onslaught of the hours. The hours... the hours.
Kathryn, do NOT be jealous of me going to the opera. It was weird. They were wearing these bulky animal costumes and clonking boots which might have been okay except that their footsteps drowned out the sound of the orchestra (Oh look! A band!). The plot was supposed to be about the circle of life or something deep, but it really seemed to be more about animals getting it on. It was an opera, though, so plot really shouldn't matter as long as the music is good. It wasn't. I mean, it wasn't BAD - but most of the singing was monotonous, the orchestration was unremarkable, and I hope to heaven no one from the production reads this. It would be so disheartening! They were all skillful - I just wasn't interested in the piece itself. But then, I have only ever seen very classical sorts of pieces. The Marriage of Figaro. Samson and Delilah. And I was listening to Puccini before leaving the house! What do you do? But then again, I was distracted by my seating companion. Five so
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