I'm past the unusual blow of the celebrity death enough to've picked myself up off whatever I got knocked down onto, so I'm vertical again, if a little shaken, and resuming dealing with the challenges of the present in my existence and what arises in my mind from other sources.
One-sentence paragraphs have me a tad self-conscious, after a colleague objected to them at some length recently.
I do like them, though.
Adventures in handheld scanner invisible goo wrangling continue. Go Blue.
I have a pact to get to bed early tonight. Relatively early. I wish to honor the pact. Here's to it. I know I'll regret it in the morning if I don't pull it off.
A bee flew in Georgia's ear and stung her.