Dear Diary

Dear Diary,

Summer is almost over. It’s a hard fact to swallow, but there’s no denying it. At times like these, when the rain is pouring out of the sky and the dark clouds linger around the corner, I wish I’d been more active during the nice, sunny days. I hope we’ll have some nice summer days left before autumn falls.

We just got back from an amusement park, Nadia, Pewter and Me. Pewter had the time of his life. However, if I received a nickel for every time I’d saved that boy’s life today I’d be rich. I don’t get how even the most generic things such as a waffle can turn out to be a deadly weapon in Pewter’s hands. Fate is a devious thing, even without powdered sugar on top. When it started to rain, it seemed like a good idea to keep him away from any electrical devices. Preferably the rides.

Here we are, at home. A fun day always ends with a bang (or splash, in this case). I’ve got nothing to complain about, though. Nadia just made us some hot chocolate and I picked a nice movie for tonight. One of those romantic comedies. I know Nadia likes them a lot. As soon as she’s got Pewter out of his wet clothes and into bed, we’ll have a nice, relaxing evening. He was really happy with the toy plane we bought him at the amusement park. He’ll sleep in no-time.

The doorbell rings. I hear Cookie enter and Nadia welcomes him warmly. Oh, well. A nice evening with hot coco for three is just as good, I suppose. From the sound of it, Pewter noticed Cookie’s entrance as well. There’s high squeal. It’s Cookie, and he’s screaming something like ‘my eye, my eye’. I wonder what that’s all about? Hmm… There’s Pewter’s voice. ‘Plane crash, uncle Cookie’, I think he just said. I can’t quite hear it from inside the study.

Time to head downstairs for the movie and some hot coco. The stinky armpit of faith that we call life does have good sides, after all. It’s almost my birthday, too. Another year, another lesson learned. I don’t know if that’s what it is, but somehow makes me appreciate what I have.

Life, you’re not so bad after all.

Just don’t be such a bitch.

Yours,

Eugene.