“Back to work, back to work, to show my Dad that I’m no jerk.” That’s my paraphrased Billy Madison “Back to school” ditty that he sings while waiting for the schoolbus. So, indeed, back to work, not into the classroom, so real work to be done. And, surprise, surpise, right back into the same old BS. Oh well.

Anywho, I spent Boxing Day with my 86-year-old aunt. She’s a little worse for wear. She doesn’t get around well and she’s rarely in shape to go outside, so she remains in her apartment most of the time. She’s a litle vain and a little paranoid, so she doesn’t like strangers coming into her house, so she doesn’t have anyone come to do her hair or clean the house, so it ends up as good as an 86-year-old, 5-foot-nothin’, 98-pound woman can do it. She also lacks in self-confidence, so she also doesn’t get things fixed. She’s missing a remote control for her new TV, but doesn’t seem willing to get someone to get her a new one. I’m looking into that. Generally speaking, she seems to be doing well, but she could be doing better if she was willing to ask for more help.

And I got some more stuff from Santa that had somehow ended up at my sister’s place: The Princess Bride DVD and Johnny Cash: American Recordings V. Plus, she sent me some books that I got from my grandparents when I was 5, Beverly Cleary’s Henry Huggins and Henry and Ribsy. Guess what I’ll be reading over the next week …