Let's get that bit of glurge off the top of the page, shall we? I called my brother and he is JUST FINE, he is not a child or an emotional cripple, he does not need me to take care of him, he is perfectly capable of living in a city without me there without falling into the pit of despair.

Seriously, I always think he's much more miserable than he really is. He sends me these long gloomy Eeyoreish emails about how awful everything is and I get all upset. Then I talk to him on the phone and he says the same things, but he says them with a smile in his voice and I can imagine the spark in his pretty blue eyes and I know he's okay.

I, on the other hand, am running out of money, am freaking out about it, am so clumsy and nervous and excitable that I seriously took a pregnancy test today (negative). I need a break, or something, and Delphine won't stop crying. Feh. Soon Blake will be home and we can go to Starbucks and cook a pizza or something and watch bad television, and then it will be the weekend, hoorah.