(diaryland) September 28, 2004 - 2:13 p.m.

I made lemonade from some lemons that Roland and I got from the side of the road. No-one else seems to want to drink it except me. I can sort of understand, though, because it does taste bad.

At least it's lemonade.

Yesterday, May and I were hanging in the kitchen at work, and we looked up at the most ancient relic in our kitchen archaeological collection - the dirty jar of tea leaves. There was a little moth flying around in it.

I can't say I'm all that surprised since even before the tea went in there a year or two ago, the jar had brown rusty shit all up the inside. Why the boss put tea in a revolting jar and expected it to be accepted by us as safe is totally beyond me. Also, you should see the boss' 'white' mug and all-purpose withered chopstick, but that's another story.

Anyway, I knew something funny was happening to the tea leaves a few weeks before because they were beginning to look less like tea and more like pot-pourri that had been used as a cocoon. When May spotted the little moth in there, she bravely went and released it into the wild, then put it back on the shelf. I bet you fifty zillion bucks we're going to have to release another spontaneously generated moth next week too.

Also, our fridge STINKS.