A knife, a flint, a water bottle, and a camera crew

These days, there are few things I love like I love Man vs. Wild. I'm sorry, but there is something so phatty about seeing someone work it in a place that I would hate to be stranded. And it also gives me good ideas of places that I need to travel to--except not as extreme and without getting stuck on my own in a place where I am certain to die because I am most definitely not about to squeeze water out of elephant dung, sterile or not.

The sister is here for the next few weeks and I intend to force us out to (attempt to) play some tennis. I think hilarity will ensue and we'll quickly head into the gym where I will, inevitably, challenge her to a push-up competition--and crumple after a feeble set of five, if I can manage that many. After that, maybe we'll head into the city and comb the stores that I will return to once my first paycheque arrives.

While she's here, we are camping out re: our old school days. I am glad to say that her snoring did not wake me last night.
I'm still working on getting her to allow me to take her to get her eyebrows down. I already wore her down so that she let me do the middle--I take that as a good sign that it's only a matter of time.