I told my sister about our dad's visit (he stood in the doorway for a few minutes and complained) and she laughed and said, "That's dad. Get used to it." And she's right. It is him. She said that last week when she brought him soup he blew up about my uncle helping me go back to school and 'why doesn't he get his own family.' He even said he didn't like that my uncle bought us ten-speeds--the curly handlebar ones. How long ago was that! Funny stuff. Funnier than my husband walking around in one slipper for two days (which I told him wasn't funny, it's sad). He claims someone took the slipper. I left it alone. It was surreal, hearing that. This isn't a very big house.

My husband told me I was too strict. Strict! Anal is the word I prefer, thank you. If I am strict then why has the neck of my kitchen faucet been wrapped in paper towels for five months to keep its growing leak from re-wetting all my dry dishes? Among other things. Now he has till the end of the week to fix it or I'm paying someone to do it. I must've said strict 20 times today.

I started a Pema Chodron book. Really, if all else fails I might run off to be a buddha like she did....

Also reading another book for school. It's excellent! Crafting the Very Short Story: An Anthology of 100 Masterpieces (Mark Mills). Tolstoy was right on the money with his interpretation of art. I don't care what critics (who probably aren't artists) argue. Basically he said that a work of art has significance, sincerity, and beauty. Having only one or two qualities is not art, though one element predominates in a piece and one will always be the least important.

And my book club will meet the author of one of the books we read. Too bad it's inappropriate to tell her I wished for a better ending.