I believe I've just spoken to your young protege. I won't ask what you were thinking with that one, because I know if anyone can beat willfulness out of someone, it's you.
More importantly, I've returned, as you can see. Spain was lovely though I saw none of it other than where He sent me. Not a pleasure cruise, I promise. But I did manage to tan around my eyebrows. You and that ugly brother of mine are well I hope? Keeping busy and all that rot?
My elf, Sully, is very likely broaching four thousand years old. I can't really say for sure since he will never sit still long enough for me to count the wrinkles around his neck, but his senility is quite telling, and has lead to more problems than the old bugger is worth. For example? He murdered my eels while I was away by pulling them out of the tank thinking my snakes were drowning. He cooks for hours, stirring things and adding seasonings and whatnot without bothering to light a fire, and then tries to serve them to me that way. Laundered clothes go in the bin, while dirty ones find themselves hanging back in my closet, with starch added. I can't even bring myself to write of the horror I find after he's 'cleaned' the loo. Traumatizing, to say the least. Yet I continue to tolerate him. I don't understand my problem. I think it has something to do with the amusement he provides, even though my home is a wreck due to him.
And all of that to say what? Absolutely nothing. I hope you enjoyed.