Happy Saint Patrick's Day!
Our Padraig is having a wonderful time. He's almost already drunk. He's had three meals and it's only two in the afternoon and the rain is pouring down so hard and that, coupled with the three-degree wind and darkness has made us cancel our plans to go and carouse about town tonight to celebrate being Irish as only a few of us actually are.
Kidding. We had zero plans to carouse, as it were.
I am busy throwing mugs anyway. Not throwing them on the wheel, actually throwing them. At the fence, which is cathartic as nothing I have ever seen before except then I have to go and pick all the shards up and put them in the recycling clay bucket and make them back into clay. As long as they haven't been glazed you can do that and apparently I am the QUEEN of weak handles on cups, which shrink and crack a month later and ugh, the learning process coupled with my OCD-perfectionism (DIAGNOSED, in case you're easily annoyed) is just about ruining this whole thing. I ground the edges down with a file and now it's a drinking VESSEL, just not a MUG.
It's fine, everything's fine.
*picks up shards*
I get to start drinking at five.
As soon as you've eaten, says my minder. He makes the rules, I follow them.
*throws perfectly good mug this time, just for emphasis on the 'follow' part.*