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Party.

Today's the Pan-Holiday Party (theoretically) at work. Winners of the decoration contest will be announced. I'm bringing the beta release of my chocolate covered cherries. Ingredients are semi-sweet chocolate chips, preserved fruitcake cherries, and (in about half of them) corn syrup. (In addition to what's already in the cherries.)

The production release of same will have upgraded ingredients.

I have a cough. It started out as a sniffle and a tickle last night. I rather fear that I was doing too much running about in the chill air yesterday evening, because my lungs get unhappy with me if I do that. At least I'm to a point where my muscles are happy to do things that my lungs aren't?

I'm all dressed up, for certain definitions of "dressed up". I have on a green swirly-skirt (dry clean only, which is why I don't wear it more often), one of my black shirts, a black cotton sweater with sparkly buttons, a string of garnet, matching lipstick, and the holly/bells/ribbons headband I made last year for this same party.

It should be bearable. I like many of my co-workers. The ones who irritate me tend to irritate me for reasons of their competence on the job, rather than personality clash. And, understandably, competence on the job means that they're not working in any form of supervisory capacity, which means I have the edge when dealing with them, because I'm not on the phones these days.
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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