the punk, the ladies, the ferret

My son the punk returned to my lake place yesterday, and he's immediately back to sleeping 1-10 or so. Le sigh. He better do the chores I assigned to him or there may be confiscations of addictive electronics. I wonder if he'll touch them if I put them underneath Inga, my usual cheap lube whose tube has dried blood on the cap, and the Jolly Green Giant.

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Dates made for the next couple of weekends with existing lady friends. Definite potential there. Ahem.

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Visited gement, who's several days post-surgery. They're doing well, and moving about how you'd expect someone in that situation to move: slowly and not much. Ferretmom, whom I'd never met, was there too. gement chose their mother well. The two of them look & act so much alike it's like they're related or something. Getting to gement's from my place on a bike, by the way, was a good choice of morning workout. Uff da!

[The magic of editing lets me prevent you from seeing the number of times I've fucked up gement's pronouns in the last five minutes. Dammit. I will get that right, lest I go to trans hell.]