The good day continues, since our bill for James's emergency room trip arrived, and it wasn't nearly as bad as I'd feared. A single commission oughta take care of it, and that is a Very Good Thing.
Also, lest the day become too perfect, I must bitch--I have now had three versions of some idiot's public letter about how the Elfwood mods are meeeean to him inflicted upon me, through the various journals and one on woodchat. Even if I cared in the first place (I didn't) this exercise in poor taste would have driven me to mild irritation. I mean, sheesh. Attempting to drag a private quarrel out into the public in the hopes that people will flock to you and there will be an outpouring of public opinion in your favor thus magically curing everything only works in musicals, and since nobody's tap-danced by my desk singing "Seventy-Six Trombones" yet, I ain't buying.
Crap, now I have "Seventy-Six Trombones" stuck in my head. My grandmother used to rent that video at least once a year...