Ramblings

As I wait for the boy to get off the can (which by the way, he has been using with a curious frequency the last two weeks), I am pondering nicknames. Tell me, why does Xtina work for me and N8 just seems silly for a grown man to use as a legitimate shortening of his name? And why don't I have a nickname? I've given a few, and some have even stuck. For better or for worse (right TimTim?) Buzzy's ok with her name. It's her own fault anyway. She came late in the year and we couldn't have another with my name.

The boy's cellphone is ringing. He's still using the facilities. It's rung twice now--how he gets away with "PIMP" being the ringer on his work phone is beyond me. If only those old folk he works with knew the lyrics to such a ring. It's a hip-hop song, but the phone makes it sound like it's being played on steel drums somewhere in the streets of Jamaica. I wish I was in Jamaica. I don't care that my dad told me it's a bad place to be right now, that it's full of crime. I've digressed. Hark, is that the whirl of the toilet I hear? Must mean it's time to get back to wiring the basement. Who am I kidding--we'll prolly just go watch Trading Spaces or something.