Stream of Consciousness Warning
1 For those playing along at home, I have had sixteen ray gun therapy sessions, with only nine more to go. My skin in the treatment area has begun to burn, which I know by looking at it. Surgery left me mostly numb in that region, which is a blessing. There are one or two small areas that are not numb, though they don’t hurt nearly as much as a visual inspection suggests that they should. Yes, I am using the prescribed emollient; and Steve has taken over chauffeuring duties to and from the Cancer Center.
2 For fans of the Hummer Bar: we are open, and have seen custom, which is gratifying, and amuses me, at least. The cats don’t seem so interested in hummingbirds. Squirrels, now. . .
3 For those who may not have seen the news — Uncle Hugo’s and its sister store, Uncle Edgars, in Minneapolis, have burned to the ground, victims of Friday night’s civil unrest. All hands are safe and accounted for, but the stores and all contents are gone. This is a horrifying loss to the community. Don Blyly, the owner, is in the process of — well, processing the situation, consulting his lawyer, and doing those things that one must in the aftermath of catastrophe. He has not set up any Go-Fund-Me accounts, he has not put out a call for books to help him restock. He’s still thinking, taking advice, and weighing options. If you see any calls for contributions of cash or stock, please do not respond; several drives have been started by concerned persons, but they are not in any way official. When Don needs our help, he will tell us.
4 On Monday June 1 — that’s tomorrow — morning at 9 am Eastern, the first chapter of The Wrong Lance will — or at least, should — appear at Patreon, for Patrons Only, and also at Splinter Universe, for all who care to look for it.
5 Trooper just stole a face mask off my desk. He was very clever about it, sneaking in under the lip of the standing desk, and lifting his snout centimeter by centimeter, until he was in a position to snatch! the ear-loop, fling himself to the floor, and take up position on his favorite sun rug, looking oh-so-very pleased with himself. I have recovered the mask, and will wash it later. In the meantime, I am, need I say, in Trooper’s Black Book.
Here endeth my stream of consciousness.
Everybody stay safe.