The perils of open glasses

So, yesterday’s excitement included spilling a glass of ice tea across my desk.  Everything’s mopped up now, thanks in great part to Steve’s quick reactions, and no electronics died in the adventure.  We were inspired to explore a top shelf in the kitchen and have returned to use not one, but two sippy cups for grownups, so there’s that benefit.

The other benefit of spilling liquid over a paper-strewn surface is that you get to look at all those pieces of paper as you’re separating them and draping them about your office to dry.  Sometimes, this reveals treasure; sometimes only puzzles.

In the category of puzzle, I discovered a calendar page (we have a Non-Sequitur calendar on the kitchen table, and use the tear-off pages for scrap paper), with my writing in three different directions, elucidating the following:

PP (which I assume is Pemaquid Point; there’s a lighthouse there): Rte 32 1:26 hr
Rock(land): Rte 32 1:10
O(ld) O(rchard) B(each): Rte 295 1:43
Coburn G(ore): 16/27 2:11
Portsmouth: 295 2:19
Houlton: 11 2:32
Jackman: 201 1:56

I’m not certain of the original reason for this piece of research (and I’m somewhat unsure of the apparent assumption that I can take Rte 11 all the way to Houlton; I think I have to cope with 95 at some point, but perhaps not.); possibly I was exploring my options, if a Flight to the Border became necessary.  However, it does nicely establish that we are, in fact, located in Central Maine.

And now, having shared this information, I can rid myself of at least one tea-stained scrap of paper.

Today, cardio-gym and the grocery store in the bright sunshine.  Tomorrow, there’s snow in the forecast, maybe (we look to be on edge of a snowstorm, which may or may not honor county lines; you never know with snowstorms).  In the meanwhile, there’s writing to be done.

Everybody stay well.

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