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Figment took me out to run some mutual errands (me bleeding, him dealing with paperwork and theoretically getting a haircut, though he's as shaggy as ever at the moment) and we came back to my place to the quasi-alarming sight of my front door open!

It turned out to be the too-young-to-be-a-leftover-hippy maintenance guy and a plumber working on the dishwasher. The problem had been a kink in the hot water hose, a problem that was soon fixed. My dishwasher runs now! I am happy!

As I told Figment, though, "Does this mean I'm going to have to start cooking again?"

Blinds are up (crooked). Dishwasher runs. Cabinets will be installed as soon as they arrive, in theory. Now all I really need fixed is the peephole on the front door, which affords me a nice view of a blurry paint-splotched patch of light and/or dark outside. I can live with the shower being odd.
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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