Let’s make love on a mountaintop, under the stars on a big, hard rock

Today was consumed by phone calls and shoes.

The phone calls — vet appointments have been set; appointments for annual check-ups for the non-feline members of the household have been set; home visits from CPAP techs have been arranged. Truly, I am Queen of the Telephone.


The truth is — if these folks did appointments by email, I’d’ve been done weeks ago. Telephones are an instrument of the devil. I thought so even when we were on a party line.

(and who knows what that is, anymore?)

Regarding shoes — I had ordered in two pair from Zappos — a “sensible” pair, which I figured I’d keep; and a pair of Frye oxfords that I wanted to see, having once owned and put manymany hundreds of miles on a pair of Frye boots. I figured that, once seen, the oxfords would be returned.

Except — the sensible shoes were not only Sensible to the point of ugliness, they didn’t fit.

And the Frye oxfords?

Fit like they were made for my feet alone.

. . .I bow to my doom.

I did get a few words written on behalf of George, and Steve and I worked out a motivation problem in what will be Story the Oneth in the Liaden Universe® short story extravaganza. I hope to have time to plot that out in detail tomorrow.

Tomorrow is, by the way, Wednesday, which is the Monday of day-job summertime. Happily, it is immediately followed by Thursday, which is the Friday of same.

Progress on the Book Presently known as George
43,885 words/100,000 OR 44% complete

Or maybe Rudy stood on principle with the brats of bosses.

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