Tamagucci

I just realized that my last post wasn’t as lighthearted as it might be. Oops.
But then I got brought back up to la-la land by Madge’s Tamagotchi. I’ve changed diapers for about six years straight and am now happy to merely clean up various accidents of a stubborn three-year-old, and now I’m cleaning up after an handheld electronic toy. Argh.
Of course you’re thinking this is because Madge isn’t allowed to take it to school and wants me to take care of it. Oh, no. Madge doesn’t care one whit if the darned thing dies. She can always hatch another.
Julie is the culprit. Julie got hooked on the thing and lectures me every night about letting Tamagotchi die – but she’s careful to call it Madge’s Tamagotchi. Madge tells her to take it to work, but for some reason she won’t – maybe because she knows that she’d have to share with her colleagues, especially P.
Anyway, here it goes again. Now that I’ve cleaned up the poop I need to play with it. If only I could buy it a handheld electronic toy so I could have some time to myself…