...Some things you have to believe, but others are puzzles, puzzling me...

I think my street is bad luck.

Someone on this street, and always very near my house, passes away every year around Christmas. Two years ago it was Marcell, the nice old man across the street who carved sculptures and made birdhouses out of wood, and sold them to people that drove by. He passed on December twenty-fourth of cancer. Last year it was Gwen, my next door neighbour, who had a heart attack at her computer on December twenty-eighth. Her husband, Chris, is holding up quite well, raising his grandkids on his own, although we don't know how long he is going to last either, with his various medical conditions. After this incident last year, I wondered who it would be this year, and hoped that it wouldn't be from this house. It was. Our tenant's mother-in-law, who didn't actually live here, but was over babysitting the kids so often that it was like she did, passed away unexpectedly yesterday in hospital. What's even worse, is that our tenant, Susie, was two minutes late to the hospital. I don't really know any details because when we heard this morning, it was almost seven, and I needed to get to school for choir, which ended up being quite horrible anyways.

Tomorrow I will tell you about our current "science" project, pudding, and the play I saw at Riverside tonight that was about sex, plus what happened after the play.

Goodnight.