Sunday. Sunny and warmer than latter days.
This morning’s work was going through Kin Right in search of those errors and fixing them. I herewith report progress: One was not an error, merely the time has not yet arrived. The other two … can be explained, in-world, and therefore are not errors.
The last load of towels is drying and the bedclothes are washing.
I have retired the trade station while Further Thoughts are Thunk.
I believe that I shall, as they say, Take The Rest of the Day Off. Perhaps I shall descend to The Studio and have a go at double-stringing my stars. After that, maybe I’ll make a big glass of iced tea and read a book.
Decadence, thy name is Rolanni.
The cats are distributed thusly — Tali is in the box on the corner of Steve’s desk; Firefly is in her Usual Position at the top of Mount Circular Logic, also in Steve’s office. Both are napping.
Rookie is curled up on top of the cedar chest in my office. He is — surprise! — napping.
They may be on to something.
What are you doing today?
Addendum: Sigh.
<complaint> I am getting Deeply Tired of the folks who are convinced that every piece of writing that’s come out since Steve died is a “wrap up,” or “the final.” We’re not at The Final yet, right? I’ll tell you when.</complaint>
