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Alas -- the Darkside hasn't been answering his phone, which means he's either asleep, busy, or not willing to be bothered. (And given how often he's been willing to be bothered lately, I'm hardly offended if that is the case.) Since it's almost 4, I'm thinking that I'm not to be spending time with him today.

As it is, my laundry is all washed and waiting to be put away. The sink is clear of dishes, and while there are probably a hundred more little household tasks that need doing, it's the sort of thing that can wait for another few hours. I'm going to be waiting around for a little longer to see if my roommate wants to come with on the trip that's going to wind up at my bank and perhaps a few more places, but ... nice peaceful Sunday, eh?

A woman out of my past forwards things. I've taken to replying to the bad ones with commentary (usually involving Snopes) and in unconventional ways to some of the best good ones. I break memes for the fun of it; why should I act like people want me to unless there's a reason for me to do so? ("Reason", of course, includes "not getting in too much trouble or making the people around me too uncomfortable". I'm somewhat nonconformist, not stupid.) She's stopped sending me too many of them. Hmm, I wonder why.
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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