And you think you have problems.

An old-fashioned, claw-footed, cast-iron bathtub full of warm water and bain mousseux is awaiting me at this very moment, and I cannot procrastinate further, as much as I would like to. My plan is to perform my morning purification ritual as perfunctorily as I can, anoint my body with the required unguents and emollients, then toddle off to the sculpture studio to work on my lamia. Obviously I never did get it started at home, realizing that working on the kitchen table was a stupid idea, since it�s a heavily-trafficked area and I would be called upon frequently to put my work away. So we�re off to a different venue.

The skeletal remains of Cecilia Zhang , the 9-year-old Toronto girl who was kidnapped from her home last October, were found yesterday. The whole thing has depressed me profoundly. I can only imagine what her parents have been going through these past months, only to have their last hopes destroyed with this latest discovery. It�s horrible.

I try to explain to my daughter that we die a little death everytime she is not where she says she�s going to be, or when she doesn�t call to say she�ll not be home for supper, and she just rolls her eyes and probably mutters something sarcastic under her breath, as I no doubt did when I was her age. There are some things that you can only know from experience, and now these poor people know the grief of a dead child. My heart goes out to them.

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