Streams of consciousness...

I'm trying to write an entry, I promise. One with substance, something it'll be possible to actually sit down and *read*, a good chunk of life at Casa Didgeridoo with a couple of extras - - a value meal of an entry, if you will. But I can't. Every time I sit down and get the writing machine going, Didgeridoo Boy pops in and begins talking.

"I didn't see any meteors."

So - - yes, I know there was a meteor shower last night. Anyway, he is excited because we are going to get his new computer today. On zero sleep and a gallon of caffeinated beverages....

"What the hell? Jupiter just yakked. Oh. Stupid cat! You okay boy? He ate plastic. Pink plastic."

(Yes, I'm jotting these up as soon as he says them. Yes, Jupiter Jones just threw up in the foyer.)

Anyway, he's had a lot of caffeine and he's very excited. I don't blame him. There is *something* about a new computer, and frankly, I'm excited about this one, too. He's been using my Macbook since his old computer took its fatal tumble, and nine times out of ten, I've had to pitch fits to get it away from him. But that isn't what this is about.

"Ske-douche."

And I don't know what THAT is about, but he just said it. Trying to write. Trying. AND NOW HE IS STARING.

"I can count to potato."

Well, there went what I was about to tell you.

"It's a meme, you haven't seen it yet?"

OH HOLY HELL.

"Divide by cantaloupe. And honking on bobo."

You know what? I give the hell up. Totally. See, I know what he is doing. He's after my Macbook so he can continue comparison shopping....

"Do you even know what honking on bobo is?"

I quit. See you all Friday, when Didge will once again have his very own computer.