The cockatoo has not escaped today, but he is making a huge mess of the night night boxes in the bottom of his cage. That's good, he needs to be kept busy. Therapy was okay yesterday, it was the only therapy I've ever been to that would be qualified as shrinkified. So far she's discovered my secret guilt about having a brilliant child living at home to help me when NASA wants her to work for them. She might have discovered something else, who knows, I was there two hours! We also stopped by a small diner and had lunch and went to some military surplus stores and my daughter made me wait in the car while she went inside. That was crappy, I was hoping to find a new bag to carry shit around in, but she reminds me repeatedly that I have enough bags. She isn't really being reasonable about it though, most of my bags are very expensive and HUGE. I mean I can carry twenty skeins of yarn in my over half off laura burch bags with the painted horses or cats. I have my favourite bag made in guatamala, but people refer to it as a purse, AS IF. I need something that will hold my crap and cannot be construed as a "purse". People are really insensitive, why would I, a butch woman hampered by the loss of the use of her legs, carry a fucking purse. Seriously. Nobody knows but me, but I purchased a Peruvian backpack with a small stitched llama or alpaca on the back of it. I don't even have it yet, but I love it.