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It's almost over. (The week.)

"I dropped the cope," I announced, and then had to explain my over-tired pun to the concerned roommates. Slept for a solid three hours, so I needed the damn nap. My right wrist is feeling funny, and has been aching all day. I will have to find my brace before doing any more serious typing.

Comment editing is live.

Renew your necromancy books, please.
Edible cocktails with gelatin!

I called Dawn; Dawn called back. Yay Dawn. She and I are both dealing with end-users lately.
I brought little penguins to work today, because work needed little penguins.
I lose time. Nothing sinister like "Miss Lunatic has left the building" -- I'm there and perfectly responsive, but I will wind up entranced and losing time in some very predictable areas, like lounging about in the bathroom, especially in the bathtub. Therefore, there is now a damn clock in the bathroom.
I need more hair elastics. The existing ones are becoming hard to find, and since it's two of us sharing, I'm fairly certain that I'm the one who's managing to misplace the bulk of them. I find them in my room on a constant basis.


(I'm thinking the tried and true washcloth-with-hair-elastics brace may do me well tonight, especially when coupled with tiger balm.)
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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