I love Polaroid cameras--the instant gratification; the distortion of the resulting image; the odd, saturated colors. I am always slightly annoyed when, upon seeing my Polaroid, someone laughs minimally and says, "They still make those?" as if I'm lugging around an IBM PC Junior, or something. And yes, they sneer just the slightest amount, but a couple of drinks later, and guess who's grabbing for the Polaroid now, eh, Mr. Cutting Edge?

("Eh." That makes me sound wise.)

Anyway, I will begin this paragraph with a restatement of my fondness for the Polaroid camera, in case there is any doubt about the subject or "thesis" of today's entry. (Thesis = "I love the Polaroid camera.") But then, I will move on to explain that I have been too lazy to scan any of the vacation photos so far, and further too lazy to find the cord for the digital camera, and segue into an explanation of how irritated I am that I recently purchased and completed the book "Lost" by Gregory Maguire, and how I resent my laziness, which caused me to lie around torturing myself by reading nonsense instead of hurling the book across the room and getting on with my life as soon as I realized exactly how much the book sucked. Which was nearly instantly.

Anyway, the malaise lingering from finishing the book has caused an inability on my part to effect any meaningful change, so I'm staring out the window, wondering if those finches are going to come back, or whether the Keelhauler will get me a spotty Ocicat kitten like he hinted.

If I did get that kitten, I could name him Spotty Boy. Or something more heavily embroidered, like Prunaprismia. ("Pruney Boy.")

I sure do love kittens!

Star of the day. . .Spotty Boy