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The shower in the downstairs bathroom of the house hates me. How do I know this? Because when I'm in it and I'm being comfortable it unleashes it's fiery wrath upon my tenderest bits. This happens at least once every five minutes. Once I fooled it by sticking my head in the way. My mane is thick enough to have absorbed the heat without causing me intense pain. This is a good thing. That I have to know this, however, is a bad thing. Very bad thing.

Two Towers still kicks ass.

I was just now domestic. I wanted some milk, so I was searching around for a clean glass. The clean glasses were in the dishwasher. So, I emptied the dishwasher, put the dirty things from the sink into there, and put everything away. Then I had my milk.

Tiger-beast was sitting on me earlier whilst I was napping. He seemed enormously pleased with himself that he had my leg under his control. I think that may have also been because I'm warm, but I don't know. He's a devious person indeed.

I don't know why I'm calling Tiger "Tiger-beast" today. However, it does seem to please him and suit his mood.

I go. I'm going to try to get some sleep so I can fully entertain Betsie on the morrow. And after the entertaining? I shall nap. I shall nap like a king!

Slainte

John-Boy