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Cleaning Day

Sick days, when I'm alert enough to do things around the house, but not energetic enough to work, or with not enough stamina to work, are cleaning days.

Today, I tackle the small mountain of papers in That Ugly Thing (the green wicker arched shelf on my desk).

Tomorrow, the world. (Actually, I hope to be well enough to emerge tomorrow.)
Gone away, gone ahead,
Echoes roll unanswered.
Empty, open, dusty, dead.
Why have all the Weyrfolk fled?

Where have dragons gone together
Leaving weyrs to wind and weather,
Setting herdbeasts free of tether;
Gone, our safeguards, gone, but whither?

Have they flown to some new weyr
Where cruel Threads some others fear?
Are they worlds away from here?
Why, oh why the empty weyr?

-- "The Question Song", Anne McCaffrey
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