Triumphant: logs, entries, media.

Well. That's [...] something.

Well, the full moon is over, and tomorrow is May Day! I'm pretty excited, for real. Apparently I'll be out and about in Oxford in the morning for some hard-boiled journalism, then I might have to poll everyone to see where the best place to spend the afternoon is. Hogsmeade usually has pretty good celebrations, it can be kind of crowded though. Not so great for us shorties. I'll have to be sure and wear something really brightly coloured so I don't get completely lost in the crowds (might even make Tilden piggy-back me, shh).

Kind of a pain when it happens on a Tuesday or Thursday though. Being in the office for one day with the weekend on one side and fun and excitement on the other? That's just cruel. I guess it would be worse if I got the whole day off, but even so, it doesn't really feel like work, does it?

Who: Mary, Reginald, & Maisie Cattermole
What: Toddler Bathtime and Talking About Politics
Where: Chez Cattermole
When: April 16
Rating: Domestic
Status: Logged, Complete

( there was something, well, magical, about watching the two of them together )

There are a million books around the house at any given moment, so I'm normally a big fan of reading. But sometimes, you gotta ask what writers were thinking, yeah?

Also, mental note: I need to put a bell or something on this thing as not to lose it!

Before Skee anyone asks: No. Fucking. Comment.

Though I want it on the record the Scrimgeour pays for his robes out of his pocket and not our funding and if that line gets our budget cut again you scum-sucking road whore I swear I will

[Marly]

Should've saved the drinking for tonight, I guess.

I hear France is nice this time of year.

[Private]
But it was never going to be over.

Well then.

It's Two for Tuesday, kids, otherwise known as the best night of the week. Buy one, get one free deals from 8 to 11, and caramel apple pie shots for a dollar. Weekday late night specials on tap always. Forget and/or drink your troubles, and buy a shot for the lady behind the bar while you're at it.

Remember, fellow Blacks and former Blacks, when our Easters weren't about Easter egg hunts, but dipping young House Elves in paint and hunting them in the gardens? Another grand tradition of Aunty Araminta's.