chop wood carry water – Page 19

Friday morning, with rain

Friday. Rainy and sticky.

Did not sleep well. What a surprise. The kids have twigged to the change of order, or at least the absence of the rock that was Grandpa. I’ve been Queried several times, starting with Tali pointing out to me that the prime spot tucked up against my right side in the bed that Trooper reserved for himself and no other was . . . empty. She was nervous, and licked her nose several times, but she did make the report.

I’m informed by Second in Command Firefly that the next step is a call to the Northeast Committee Cat, which will of course come to naught. I filled out The Form at the vet’s yesterday, and they do an upload to NEFU Headquarters every night. I understand that Firefly needs to make sure The Protocols are followed exactly, and I’m impressed that she’s taking resolute action.

To those who are concerned — Yes, Trooper is being cremated as himself and will some time next week come home in a cedar box that will seem much too small, to take his place on the shelf next to Scrabble, and Belle, and Sprite, and Steve.

In other news, breakfast was PB&J onna whole wheat English muffin. Lunch will probably be something I pick up at the store.

Sarah is due in to clean in a couple minutes, and I? Need to straighten up my desk and find my WIP notes from the other day. I may have a title. May. I’m not crazy about it, but it does fit. I’ve made a note and will check back in a week or two to see if it’s grown on me.

How’s everybody doing today?

Picture of Trooper from October 18, 2016. I wasn’t feeling well and had retired to the couch, to color. This is Trooper telling me that I’ve colored enough and needed to take a nap.

Quiet normal day

What went before ONE: Waiting for the vet to call back.

Yanno what? I think I won’t be going to needlework tonight. I think I’ll just sit here and work on entering corrections into my chapbook, which is both comforting and cerebral.

Trooper is in the box on the corner of my desk, where he can get the sun and the breeze from the open window. Tali is on the cedar chest, where ditto. Firefly is on her towel on top of the dresser in the bedroom, where she can look out the front window, and also take the breeze, and Rookie is napping in the box on the corner of Steve’s desk.

What went before TWO: Only need to amend the back matter in the chapbook, then I can do a test layout, scream in horror, fall on my sword, and go back to the drawing board.

Trooper will be going to the vet on Thursday morning. He did yell for Happy Hour this evening, but gooshy food is too tough to chew, and the gravy is boring.

It’s time.

I think I ate … something for lunch, though I can’t tell you what. Oh, wait. Rice. I’d made a fresh pot of rice. I’ll have to do better about the evening meal, but I think I’ll get the About the Authors fixed up, first, so I can move right on with being horrified by the compilation, tomorrow morning.

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

Wednesday. Was foggy when I got up. Now cloudy and sullen. Windows are open, though it’s still a bit chilly. Lawn guys are next door, doing their thing.

Didn’t sleep well last night, but that wasn’t exactly unexpected.

Trooper had breakfast in three parts and did manage to work his way through almost an entire 3-ounce can of Fancy Feast pate, with a little end-of-plate help from Firefly.

My breakfast was cottage cheese mixed in with the tiny bit of leftover macaroni salad, which was surprisingly tasty, and black grapes. Second cup of tea brewing. I’ll probably succumb to the siren call of the last cookie pretty soon.

On today’s to-do: one’s daily duty to the cats, and smol walk. Call the hospital, which sent me an “electronic bill” on 8/27, which I forthwith paid electronically. Yesterday in the mail, comes a paper bill for the same amount, and the same services. Ahem. O! MaineGeneral, I, too, would like to be paid twice, thrice, yea! four times, for the same work, but that so rarely happens*. I feel your ambition, MaineGeneral, and I understand it. But try it on somebody else, hey?

Otherwise, I intend to work on the chapbook — front matter! almost forgot! Blurb! eek! — and Trooper is signalling his readiness to get down to cases, by climbing into his box and going to sleep. So, business as usual. That’s good.

I bought a tween-weather coat, courtesy of Land’s End’s sale. It arrived yesterday, and it’s the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen. I mean — it fits. It has outside pockets of sufficient depth for such things as car keys, and cold hands, but it also has . . . what seem to be meant to be inside pockets — quite large pockets; my tablet would fit comfortably — but. While there’s stitching along the bottom of the panel, it’s not attached to the coat — by which I mean, if you put something into these pockets, it will fall out the bottom. So, yeah, I’m thinking I’ll be getting out some thread, and maybe some fabric tape, for belt-and-suspenders, and just make those things usable. Probably not today, but who doesn’t need projects for the future?

Ah. You can see the inside pockets, here

I think that’s all I’ve got this morning.

How’s your day shaping up?

_______
*Actually, that’s a bit of a cheat. As a writer, I do occasionally get paid for the same work multiple times. I can’t, however, think of one occasion when that happened at a day-job.

You really know how to dance

What went before ONE: All righty, then.

Agway run completed. I did not buy plants. Yay, me. I did buy monofilament string — aka fishing line — so I can hang the ball I made at Corning in a sunny window where it belongs, instead of skulking on my bookshelf.

Hit the Hannaford, picked up my prescriptions, bought Fancy Feast Gravy Lover’s Pate, which is the preferred of the moment. Took the returnables to the redemption center. Caused consternation. Gassed up the car, so I don’t have to do it on Saturday. Apparently the Rusty Lantern/Irving at Webb Road isn’t supplying a means for its customers to clean off their windshields anymore, so I’ll be looking for a new gas station. Shame; that one’s really convenient.

What else? Oh, performed one’s duty to the cats, and took a walk.

It is now what time? Yes? Yes, you, right there in front. Ex — yes, say again, please for the guy in the back row who’s asleep?

It’s lunch time!

And then? It’s time to go to work.

poof

What went before TWO: I remember coming in to Albany more than a decade ago from an exceptionally long and fraught train trip which involved the train actually running out of food (long story; bad trip; it was years ago, and man did I learn to hate CSX), and Steve pulled us into the Cracker Barrel because we needed something to eat. I remember looking at the menu, then looking at Steve and saying, “There’s no food here.” “There’s chicken soup,” he said. “We’ll both have chicken soup, then we can go get some real food.” This was the first and only time I was in a Cracker Barrel.

Ah, memories…

Patched up what I wrote yesterday and put it in its rightful place within the WIP, which now weighs just about 65,420 words. Tomorrow, I need to sit down and plot out the next section, even though my brain wants to write the cool! action! scene! over there. I’ve gotta figure out how they got there, first, Brain. Gimme a break, hey?

Anyhow, knocking off early tonight to, yanno, hang away my clothes, write a couple of checks, and see if I can brainstorm not one, but two! titles. Brainstorms are considerably less fun with only one brain, in case that was a question anybody had.

So! Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

Friday. Cloudy and cool. Thunderstorms are on the menu.

Last night at bedtime, I made it a point to find Rookie, who often spends the night on the box on Steve’s desk, and carry him with me to the bed, thinking that I would once again introduce this as an option. I put him down, and he lay exactly where and how I’d put him until I’d gotten under the covers, turned out the light, settled on my pillow and drifted off. When I drifted out, about two hours later, he had relocated to my other side, tunneled between my arm and my side, and was snoring. Also, Tali had taken over the prized spot on my ankle. I went back to sleep and woke up at 7, much refreshed.

Today cutting off cat toes is on my menu, and I managed to grab Rook as he was terrorizing his sister. I put him on my lap and began to clip his claws and he was So Good. He made no complaint, or any attempt to play Disappearing Leg, and started to purr when I flipped him over on is back to amputate his back toes. When we were finished, he just — stayed, purring his silly, puffy purr, until Tali walked by and then of course he had to jump down to see what she was doing.

I have finished my first cup of tea. Trooper has had a can of Fancy Feast. Breakfast will be something to do with the peach I bought yesterday, and when I took the stoopid sticky tag off, the skin tore. Lunch will be … something.

Towels are in the washer. In addition to the cutting of cat toes, the to-do list includes one’s duty to the cats, a walk, and plotting.

What’s on your to-do list for Friday?

Today’s blog post brought to you by The Romantics, “What I like about you”

Below, a picture of one of the Agway store cats, and a picture of Tali, who is apparently taking a covert ops course from the Rivers of London foxes.

Sinking in

What went before: Slow getting started, but once I got going, I managed to pull a couple words out of the keyboard.

+/-1050 new words, bringing the WIP to +/-65,200.

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

Thursday. Sunny and cool. Weatherbeans calling for the higher 70s-in-F this afternoon. At the moment, it’s too cool to open the windows.

This morning, I need to go out to collect an extension of the new prescription, which needs to be Tapered Off, who knew? And also to Agway for a couple of things, including fishing line.

I see, otherwheres, that KJ Charles is being victimized by someone who can’t read reporting to Amazon numerous “errors” in Copper Script (which is good — read it). These are, as it turns out British spelling, British sentence structure, British slang, and in a couple of cases Actual Words that said Arbiter of Error didn’t recognized and couldn’t be arsed to look up.

I grew up reading British novels in their native Britishness, back before US Publishing decreed that Americans were too stupid to accommodate a few extra “u”s and whatnot. Welp, US Publishing has got what it wanted, with a helping of “If I don’t recognize a word, it must be a typo, because I know All The Words.”

My reading of British literature reflects in my own writing, and I have once or twice had to gently inform people that, no, that is an ACTUAL WORD, GET A DAMNED DICTIONARY, WHY NOT? Ahem. And I really despair of us as a people. OTOH, ignorant people are easier to control, and we’re into control, this episode, so there’s a win for the bullies and the cheats.

deep breath

I said upstream that you ought to read Copper Script — that is, of course, if Amazon hasn’t pulled it for having too many errors, because Amazon has been known to do this. And, yanno, Ms Charles doesn’t have anything better to do except go through an already-published book, fixing errors that aren’t wrong, so it can go back into the catalog and start earning again.

I know some folks think they’re dong Good Things by “reporting” errors and typos to Amazon. Trust me — they’re not. As I mentioned, oh, maybe this time last week? There are no perfect books. There are errors and typos in all books. Mostly, they don’t hurt anybody (I’m not talking errors like “half my book is a scifi adventure and the other half is a cookbook” or “my book is 400 blank pages” or things of that nature). Certainly, they’re not worth pulling the creator away from her new project, and pissing her off, too.

I want more books from KJ Charles, and? Abusing authors isn’t the way to get more books.

Really, I ought to start a list.

Anyhow! Having ranted and perhaps educated — Good morning! How’s your day shaping up?

Here, have a picture of Rook inna sink:

Maintaining Time

What went before ONE: So, that was unexpected. I noticed that the clock in Steve’s office had stopped, which–not unexpected; I probably hung it back there about a year ago, and it was likely time for a new battery, so I brought it with me out to the tech room,flipped it over and–

The battery had exploded inside the clock. Crystalized acid gluing it to the holder. So, now I need a new clock, and also some idea of why the battery exploded. But, definitely a new clock.

Monday, hey?

What went before TWO: Clock update.

So, I decided to try to rehabilitate the clock–for Science! And many thanks to Edward Green and Jeff Needham for the tip about using white vinegar, and Mary Carol for the emery board hack.

For those interested, the clock in question is a LaCrosse Technologies Atomic Time clock.

It turns out that I was at fault. As I was cleaning and refitting, I noticed something printed on the back of the clock in, like 8-pt black-on-black which says “Replace battery every nine months to prevent leakage.”

I don’t remember exactly when I bought that clock — at Reny’s, but I don’t remember which one. Maybe Belfast. Probably Belfast. Anyhoots, it will have been before August, so I missed my nine month change-out. Which this clock obviously takes Very Seriously.

The clock is running at this time. I’ve hung it back in Steve’s office, and made a note to replace the batteries in May.

…and back to work I go.

What went before THREE: Two thousand thirty four-ish new words written.

Time to find something to eat and maybe a glass of wine.

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

Let’s see…

Tuesday. Sunny and cool. Woke up at 5:30, but instead of getting up, I turned over and went back to sleep until 7. I would’ve slept longer, but the window was open and there were guys outside of it somewhere, having a Discussion over a background of I’m-backing-uuupp truck beeps. They’re gone now, of course; looks like they were just coming together across the street so they could move to the real job site as a unit.

Trash and recycling still need to get out to the curb, but I’ve got time, and in my own defense, I did eat breakfast and start the dishwasher.

Trooper is chowing down his second can of gooshy food. I don’t know what worked, there at the vet’s, but something sure did.

My breakfast was the last of the tuna fish on a toasted bialy, with black grapes. I’ll have my second cup of tea after I get the trash situated. Lunch will be the rest of yesterday’s soup and a side salad.

Today’s to-do includes one’s duty to the cats, taking a smol walk, getting with what I wrote yesterday, and writing some more before I head out for needlework this evening. I’m going to have to stop at the grocery. I’m almost out of gooshy food.

I’m also going to have to figure out how to mix things up around here, so every day isn’t the same as every other day. *That’s* dangerous ground. I was mixing it up by going to gym three days a week, but I’m leery of gym nowadays because my back seems to go into revolt over nothing at all lately.

Well.

It rained overnight, but we could use more. Even lots more.

What’s happening with you this morning?

Addendum:

My watch reports that I had a High Stress Period from 8:34 until, err, now. I’m counseled to rest. How strange.

So! The rescued clock is still keeping the correct time back in Steve’s office. I’m taking that as circumstantial evidence that the new battery hasn’t leaked. Yet, she added darkly.

Also, the new meds upset my stomach slightly, and I couldn’t find candied ginger in the local store, which was a bummer. But, I did find, in Reny’s of course, a jar of Chiver’s Ginger Preserves, which is Sugar, Water, Ginger. I’ve been taking a spoonful of that in the morning, and it seems to be doing the job, and it tastes good, so — win.

Has anyone else local heard that Uncle Dean’s Natural Market is going to be taking over the Save-a-Lot space in the Concourse?

Also! What’s going on with hotels canceling cons six hours after everybody’s set up and running? Have contracts not been written?

For those keeping score: Trash and recycling are at the curb, and I’m drinking my second mug of tea. There may be a third mug of tea, because I’m feeling Just That Crazy.

Now to read what I wrote yesterday…

Rook pics from yesterday, when he was trying to talk me out of my yogurt. He did not succeed.

He either fails or he succeeds

Sunday. Bright and cool. Cats are installed in the open windows. Trooper has had his first half-a-can of cat food. Biscuits are in the toaster oven and in a minute or two I’ll have to interrupt myself to heat the pan for sausage patties. Apparently, it’s Indulgence Weekend. Except for the part after breakfast when I need to change out the cat boxes and vacuum the basement.

It looks like the tree guy has ghosted me. This makes the fourth tree guy to do so. I’m getting tired of the game, but — onward to the next on the list, I guess. Maybe I can go down to the river and enlist some beavers.

So, yesterday during my ride, I thought of — many things, actually. But one thing I recalled was the Editorial Advice, ‘way back in the day, that we Branch Out in our writing, due to the Danger that our names would become inextricably entangled with this light-and-silly space opera universe that had (tanked), to the detriment of our careers.

And, I dunno, maybe she was right. It was a Theme throughout our Early Years — that we wrote a clean enough hand and if we would just Get Serious and lean harder (a lot harder) on the science in Science Fiction, Great Things could be done for us by other people. One guy told Steve to ditch the girl, that she was doing His Career no good. And that was before I got to put my name first on the universe I had created. Several colleagues told us to ditch the romance, because that would “alienate” True Readers of the genre.

We were too stubborn, and too enamored of our own vision to take the advice of Older and More Experienced Heads — and here we are. Our names are inextricably entangled with that space opera universe, which is neither as light nor as silly as some folks persist in believing. It did sorta damage our credibility when we produced other projects — they were inevitably compared to the Liaden books and invariably found wanting. Steve never did finish his own novel, though he did take Jethri under his wing when I was So. Done. With. This! Kid!

On the other hand — I said this just recently in a speech — we had fun. Even? A lot of fun, in our personal life, and in our professional life. Yes, there were problems, and Mistakes Were Made, but, yanno? That is life. Which begins to infringe on those other things I was thinking about yesterday, on my ride.

So! Biscuits with sausage and cheddar cheese for breakfast. It was very good, as Forbidden Treats so often are. Trooper has finished eating his first can of cat food on the day, and I’m drinking my second cup of tea as I address you here.

When my tea’s done, I’ll get with my chores. Salad for lunch, I think — I have lettuce, tomato, tuna, hard boiled eggs. That sounds like a salad. Oh. And olive bread. Mmmmm, olive bread.

How’s your day starting out?

Today’s blog post title is, of course, from Mr. Paul Simon, “One Trick Pony,” — a live version at the link, because art is hard work. Even when you’re having fun.

There was a call for a picture of the earrings I bought yesterday. I live to serve: rutilated quartz, silver, gold. With obligatory black felt woven with cat fur. Artist Trish Conant. (There was a comment Elsewhere that they looked heavy. In fact, they’re very light. The stones are thin, as is the metal. I wore them for a few hours yesterday after I got home, and I forgot I had them in. Very pleased with this purchase.)

Friday in reverse

Facebook free association:

ONE: Oh, look! Somebody who wants me to pay them to write a guest blog on sharonleewriter.com.

Um, no. But thanks for thinking of me, Sandra.

Sheesh.

Trooper has probably eaten more today than he had in the last week. Fingers continued to be crossed, which makes it kind of hard to sort laundry.

Second load of laundry washing, because — why not? First load drying. Vacuuming ongoing. Hard boiled eggs on the make. Time to unload the dishwasher.

TWO: Well. Pork chops. Tuna fish. Hardboiled eggs. Rice.

I’ve got enough food for days…

THREE: Oh. I’ve had one kind and two kinda miffed queries on this, so!

The reason the book-in-progress isn’t due until next April is because the rush to get Diviner’s Bow out “on time,” kinda fried me. I don’t write well with a fried brain, and since I’m the only writing brain presently on the premises, we must be protective of my health.

That’s why the turn-in date for the next book is April 2026.

Yes, that does mean it will be a subjectively “long time” between books, for some folks. One upon a time, there was ten years between books; so a couple months is nothing. No, really; it’s nothing.

Also, yanno, other people are writing books that are entirely readable, or! if you’re in the mood for Korval Shenanigans, particularly, you can re-read the 27 books that have already been published.

It’s not that I’m unsympathetic, but killing writers is not the way to get new books.

Down in your sea of pens and feathers

What went before ONE: Back from the vet. Trooper was a Very Good cat, and spoke not one angry word to me on either side of the trip, and purred the whole time the doctor was examining him. He has lost more than the home scale had indicated, and right now the only thing we can do is … guess.

So! We’re guessing that he’s not in pain. We’re guessing that maybe? the steroids helped last time. And we’re guessing that maybe? there’s a low-lying infection that the antibiotic will root out.

Otherwise, he has Fading Old Cat Syndrome.

Thanks to everyone who has made suggestions for food. It’s not that he’s not hungry; it’s that he forgets what food is halfway through eating it. And he absolutely refuses dry food (aka crunchies) which, if he has a tooth infection (and no, neither the vet nor I want to sedate him at this point), the antibiotic will nail it.

In short. We’re doing what we can. And may I say that the medical literature for cats is really … sparse.

Cat census below. Tali’s fan club, and Rook’s, will be interested to see that she takes up considerably less room on top of the supply dresser than he does.

What went before TWO: The chapter-by-chapter is complete. Tomorrow, I map holes and make notes. The WIP is, roughly, half-written. Deadline is April 2026.

Onward.

Trooper ate a whole! can! of Fancy Feast! Which is something like 3.2 ounces, but hey.

Sarah arrives early tomorrow, so I’ll do a little bit of picking up before Happy Hour and my dinner.

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

Friday. Sunny and cool-so-far. Windows are open.

Sarah messages that a family emergency keeps her from making our date to have her clean this morning. Sigh.

Trooper has had about a can and a half of Fancy Feast; he has not thrown up, and is now sleeping/snoring in the copilot’s chair, so something’s working. Fingers crossed.

Since Sarah will not be coming by, I’ll deploy some vacuum cleaners and throw in a load of laundry (which I was going to do anyway), empty the dishwasher (ditto), and get to work. I need to bake some pork chops, so I’ll be heating up the oven.

Onward.

Trooper as reported is in the copilot’s chair; Tali is on the supply dresser, nose to the open window; Firefly’s gone downstairs, I believe, and Rook is taking advantage of Conditions.

How’s everybody doing this morning?

Today’s blog post title brought to you by Counting Crows, “Rain King.”

Through caverns measureless to man . . .

What went before ONE: And as I think about Annie Lennox and Tina Turner and the other people who were abused by their creative partners . . .

I was so very lucky to have had Steve in my life: he not only supported and contributed to my art, but he stood between me and people who would have abused me because of my art, and because I “think wrong.”

I say this in interviews pretty often, and will continue to say it, because it’s true: I am so very fortunate to have been able to spend most of my life living in, and exploring, a universe of my own making, and being . . . happy in my art.

. . . and I’m so very sorry that not everyone can have that.

Continue in response to a comment regarding the magnitude of loss: I’m going to say this badly, so apologies in advance for being inarticulate. Yes, it’s a debilitating, life-changing loss. But “loss” implies having had something.

So I look at what we had — do I regret having had those things? No.

I look at what we did — do I regret having done those things? Well — no life is perfect, and certainly, as suited to each other as we were, we weren’t perfect. We did stupid stuff; we were not always wise.

But I can’t regret the laughter, the partnership, the places we went and the joy that we shared. I certainly don’t regret the creative life we shared. We never were famous, or rich, or award-winners, but damn I’m proud of our work, our vision, and the sharing of it.

Am I sorry that what I had is gone? Yes. Yes, I am. And as painful as it is to be without the support, partnership, and love that I had, still I would rather that than what I felt when my mother died, which was, “Thank God she’s gone. She can’t ever hurt me again.”

There was a thing we used to say — “Better together than apart.” That was true; we brought out the best in each other. And I have that experience now; it’s part of the warp and weft of who I am.

And I don’t regret that.

What went before: Ack.

So, I made the phone call and snagged an early December appointment, and staged the trash, but I did not do the bookkeeping. Instead, I weeded the garden, because it really is that nice outside.

The boss says it’s OK to bounce the bookkeeping to tomorrow. She’s cool that way…

What went before TWO: SNIPPET:

“Which improbably puts me in mind of why I chanced to come this way,” Shan murmured. “Jen Sin, my dear, Miri wishes to speak with you.”

Jen Sin paused with his wine glass near his lips and looked up into pale blue eyes.

Shan shook his head, Terran-style. “Unlike some others of us, I know the difference between Miri and the delm.”

What went before THREE: And! The word count at the end of this round of WIP Correx is!

Sixty thousand nine hundred and ninety-five words.

I have the files that I pulled, but to preserve Auctorial Sanity, we are not counting those words.

The Weird Word List has been updated. Back ups have been made.

Tomorrow, I start with the Chapter-by-Chapter which will be the definitive map of Where the Holes Are.

Tomorrow, I am also interviewing a potential cleaner, and! It’s needlework night.

Tonight, however, I’m off the clock.

Or, I will be off the clock once I wash the dishes.

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

Tuesday. Cool and cloudy. Trash and recycling at the curb.

Breakfast was half a blueberry muffin and plain yogurt. Rookie would like his fandom to know that he really likes plain yogurt, and that Tali and Firefly don’t like plain yogurt, because they’re silly, but that’s OK, because that means there’s more yogurt for him.

Trooper, who has a record of enjoying a wee dram of plain yogurt from time to time, was not interested.

Trooper also informed me that the gravy which has been the only thing he would reliably eat for months now — deserved only to be buried. I broke out the just-arrived food chopper and pureed a can of gooshy food, which is, mind you, already gooshy, and he did eat — lap, whatever . . . most of that. He’s also lost a little more than a pound since August 4, according to the home scale.

These things are concerning, to say the least.

Now that the trash is out, Trooper has eaten something, and is napping while the other cats are occupying the windows in the bedroom, I’m going to start building the Chapter-by-Chapter.

I finished reading Stone and Sky last night, and started reading the book club book. For those who have been wondering what I’ve been reading — mostly rereads, and cozies — the list is here

How’s everybody holding up on the second day of the week?

Today’s blog post courtesy of Samuel Taylor Coleridge, a man who knew how to build an earworm. “Kubla Khan”

Here’s a random Firefly pic as a reward for those who made it to the end of all that:

I travel the world and the seven seas

Business first: If you have read a Liaden novel or short story collection, or, heck, a Carousel book or short story collection, please consider leaving a review on the bookselling site of your choice.

Thank you.

What went before ONE: Chores done, including remaking the bed with nice clean sheets, that may help me sleep tonight. I have regretfully had to close the windows, because there is not a breath of air moving outside and it was 85F/29C in my office, which is — too warm.

Wordle has also been solved, so! I guess it’s time to find something to eat for lunch, so I can go to work.

What went before TWO: I cleared off half of the top of the supply dresser, so Rook and Tali can use the side window. Not that any of these cats are spoiled.

What went before THREE: Hey, it’s raining. We really need rain.

I? Am not done inputting the correx, but I’ve come to a picky bit, and I’m tired, so instead of pushing myself to frustration — knocking off now; early-ish to bed, and tomorrow’s a new day.

Everybody stay safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.

What went before FOUR: I think they’re trying to tell me something:

Monday, and it’s a Beautiful Morning. I have opened every window in this house that opens. Sirius XM popup channel 80s ChillPill is my morning entertainment, currently listening to “Sweet Dreams” from the Eurythmics.

I had a lovely, long sleep, despite which the day started . . . awkwardly.

As has become the habit, I got up and immediately gave Trooper his gravy-and-meds and got dressed while he was chowing down. Came out to the kitchen with the intention of making scrambled eggs with Inclusions, followed by Trooper who was screaming his head off, despite having just eaten. I applied snuggles; that wasn’t it. I offered dry food, which is never it, anymore, but I was starving and really needed to eat. Yelling continued to a point where I actually couldn’t think, and when you can’t think to scramble eggs, you’re in a bad spot.

I put Trooper, and Rook, for company, into the bathroom, closed the door, and went back to the kitchen to make my own breakfast. Got the Inclusions into the frying pan. Reached for the salt grinder, and?

The base fell off. Salt everywhere. I mean, yeah, thank ghu it was salt and not, oh, molasses, but yikes! I finished making breakfast, let Trooper and Rook out of the bathroom, ate breakfast, opened a can of gooshy food for Trooper, who at least licked the gravy, and cleaned up the salt. I don’t have any more coarse salt to pour into the Oxo grinder, and anyhow the Oxo grinder and I need to have A Talk . . . and — sigh. OK, guys, the Eurythmics was great, and Whitney Houston I can tolerate, but I draw the line at Peter Cetera. I guess the 80s were a mixed bag.

Where was I? Oh, Come to Jesus with the Oxo Salt Grinder. I do have a McCormick disposable grinder full of salt, so that’s what I’m playing with now.

Recapping: The salt has been cleaned up, Trooper has had his second breakfast and is in his box on my desk, sleeping. Junior Grade Cats are distributed in various windows. I need to stage the trash, perform my duty to the cats, do the bookkeeping I’ve been avoiding, write a letter, make a call for my annual eye appointment, and then? I can write.

How did your Monday start out?

Today’s blog post title brought to you by the Eurythmics, “Sweet Dreams“