uphill both ways. yeah. i'm old.

Seems appropriate, I think. Basic need. Water. That's something easy to understand.

I kinda feel like I've been running in sepiatone. Things feel older than they are, like an illusion. Like a trick. Kids ask me how old I am and I have to stop and think. We've only been here five weeks. Not even. Four and a half.

The joke the kiddies have been telling:

Why did the airplane crash into the mountain?

The pilot was a tomato.

Alternate reality, these children. I remember being a child. I remember my dad telling me not to be rude and run to get ahead of him through a door like a cat under his feet. It gave me that burning feeling in my chest. Because Dad didn't do that. That is, unless I knew I deserved it.

Today a kid saw me walking with a tray of food and charged at me. Didn't want me to get by that table first, even though, at the time I know he saw me, I was closer to it than he was.

My favorite joke as a child:

Knock, knock.

Who's there?

Boo.

Boo who?

(sympathetically) Oh, don't cry! It's only a joke!

They're only children. And I'm only human. I have a feeling I'd be like Ashley Judd in Ya-Ya if I had more than, maybe, 3 kids. It just gets to me. Six days a week with 40 to 60 children and about 20 adults in one room. Try it sometime. It's like an endurance test.