R.I.P. Bill.

Remember my really old fish? The one that was clearly on his last fins, as it were? Well he's still alive and (barely) kicking. But the other one? The completely healthy, happy one that swam and played and loved me like crazy? Dead. Matt came home and he was all white and puffed up and then a couple of minutes later he was dead. No idea why.

It's ridiculous to feel sad about a dead fish. It's not like we'd grown incredibly close, but there's something about not being able to help him and wondering if he felt pain (I assume he felt some but I'd rather think I'm wrong) that makes me feel all funny inside. Man, when these cats go I'm gonna be a fucking mess.

On a lighter note, Williams-Sonoma Old English Caramel Cake? So not worth $24. (Although I'd like to find the cake mix that is.) It's okay at $3.99, but only okay. I also noticed that the Barefoot Contessa stuff that they've promoted the hell out of is already on sale. I don't think it's even been in the store a month.

I also want to do a quick shout-out to my husband. Not ONLY did he cover for me twice this week with Baby when I had auditions to run to (and he did a fine job diapering, I might add), not ONLY did he dispose of an ooky fish so I wouldn't have to look at it, no ONLY did he not scoff when I hauled home my latest "street find" (somebody was emptying out an apartment and threw away a perfectly cool 60's era coffee table! Do they have any idea what that shit would retail for?!), but he also cleaned the entire house over the weekend so I wouldn't have to spend my two days off doing housework. Can't beat that with a stick.