
Yes, that’s muse the cat. In this case, she is indeed sleepy. This is her favorite place to sleep when I’m here, downstairs, probably because it’s very convenient for me to pet her while working on other things.
BTW my kids have taken to making fun of the poor little girl because she’s a little chonky. Like they have room to talk.
Anyway, in this case, non-literally, the truth is the writer is sleepy. I either need a nap or more coffee, and your bet is as good as mine.
I had a brilliant idea for a post, but it was the middle of the night, and I didn’t write it down, and now my mind is full of cotton wool.
It’s a relatively (Ah) low run-around day with only one brief medical appointment, to which I’ll leave in probably half an hour, and the work of refinishing the living room tables in abeyance, due to my not being able to find the mouse sander fine pads (trust me, that sentence does mean something) and therefore having to wait till Amazon delivers tomorrow. (Well, yes, I could in fact go to home depot, but that would make the chances of working on it today zero, since it’s all the way across town.)
So, if I can get a short nap in, it’s sort of an ideal day to write fiction after the (hopefully) nap. And I’m going to try just that.
Treat this as an open post, because there actually is a lot to discuss and my commenters are the most interesting part of this blog.
I’ll be upstairs, working on novels. If you need me, those of you who have my phone number, text.
If not, I’ll see you this evening.
There are worst things than a tired Muse. [Twisted Grin]
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By the way, where’s Indy?
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And why did a delivery driver just leave two very large Erector sets and a 1200 piece LEGO™ kit on the door mat?
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And where have all my small vice grips gotten off too, both needlenose and regular are missing!
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Is now afraid to look outside.
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Weird. I caught a glimpse of him going upstairs when we came back from the doctors, so he’s inside, but he’s not been pestering me.
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He’s building a trebuchet, sized for mice and hairballs. That way you will really know when he wants the food bowl refilled.
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I keep a dollar-store notebook and a pencil beside the bed. Only takes a minute or two to turn on the light and scribble down a couple dozen words — much less time than I’d spend kicking myself the next day for not doing it. 😁
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Turning on the light would cause the Mathematician to be most seriously displeased.
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Search the ‘zon for “pen with led light”.
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I kind of hate the fact that it’s frequently easier to get exactly what you’re looking for from Amazon than it is to find it in local stores.
And I have tried to find what I’m looking for in local stores, even to the point of considering kludging together things from parts.
Buying the exact item designed for the purpose on Amazon… is cheaper in money and in time.
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Corollary: I just demonstrated that the stuff you usually don’t find at your usual store will be there if you shop all around town getting those things and then go to the usual store for the usual stuff. Usually. Oh, and its about 20% less expensive at the usual store too.
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An ask at the local Box O’ Stuff:
Me: “Why don’t you have ‘X’ in stock anymore?”
Red Shirted Guy:”Nobody buys it.”
Me: “Bull fuzzy! I came here every week and bought two!”
RSG: {shrugs}
Random Person: “Yeah, I always had to get ‘X’ because my daughter-in-law always needs it,”
Random Person No. 2, totally not an extra in the torchmob: “I always bought it here because it was cheaper here than online, and more convenient.”
RSG, starting to look nervous: “Look man, I just work here.”
Long story short, the local Box O’ Stuff got bought out by Bigger Box O’ Stuff and the BBOS thinks that since it’s not a big seller in X,Y,Z counties it’s not worth it where it sells well at decent profit in D county. Thus the only place to get it is via teh interwebz. Which old farts don’t prezactly trust, thus the not-a-torchmob incident.
I gots my widget thing delivered, yay, but had to pay shipping, boo, because BBOS pulled a stupid and made things stickier than they need to be. Grumpy man is grumpy. But eh. As such things goes, it’s not the end of Whirled Peas. Small spherical green things still spin when Doofus bats at them, thus the planet remains on proper axial tilt.
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Oh, dear Bob. That’s what happened to book stores. They stocked for “Three states.” If I remember it was Colorado, Kansas and Nebraska? Something like that. And they couldn’t figure out why I lost my mind at that. The market wasn’t the same in DENVER and COLORADO SPRINGS, much less in three states.
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Took me YEARS to come to terms with that.
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When we came to Flyover County, F-Falls had one JC Penney catalog store, and a rather shady Sears in the strip mall. Flyover Falls used to have the nickname of Catalog Flats for a good reason. With the ‘zon in place, I dread having to go to town on Mondays. The incoming pile at the mail drop is impressive. And moderately scary.
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Real fun in the USA:
The wild enthusiasm that some Europeans are having at seeing the smaller side of the US. Granted, the Tartan Army is just nuts [No surprise – they’re Scottish.], but the absolute ball people seem to be having as they travel and discover the US outside of the big cities.
Along those lines, this is the centenary of the designating of Route 66 as a cross-country highway. People all along the route, and those traveling the route, are throwing parties, enjoying the cultures and sights, and generally having a weeks-long celebration. It is totally non-political, non-partisan, and pure Americana kitsch. The Arts at the Sunset in Amarillo, for example, has a quilts of 66 show in progress, showing 100 art quilts with Route 66 and America 250th themes. As well as an enormous street party last weekend on one of the few still-commercial stretches of 66 that remain. It is all truly family-friendly, and people seem to be having a blast.
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There has been the English guys that have been posting their American experiences for awhile now. Explaining America to Europeans, particularly the England. Different states, different weather conditions. The ones on the “Great Lakes” were hilarious. As was the one on “why American’s do not have passports”.
The “World Cup” visitors, are also posting:
Just a small sampling.
So far very little on “why can’t Americans drive on the left side of the road?” About what one would see for American driving for the first time in Europe.
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NOT EUROPE. Only England.
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Back in 1967, Dad took Mom and me down Route 66. We made it as far as the Grand Canyon before we had to turn back, but it was a fun trip. About 4 years later, 4 of us went from U of Redacted to California on the interstate version thereof. (I stopped at San Diego to visit a friend, while the rest made it to Modesto-ish and Yosemite.) Not quite the same; some of the most beautiful country was traversed around midnight, but we did our best. Fun, despite car troubles. (Mercifully, our road disaster was 10 miles from one of the guy’s extended family. Did not have to find a motel in metropolitan Blythe, California. Blythe, where a Pontiac was too exotic for the local auto parts store…)
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You realize, of course, you will find the fine mouse pad sandpaper now that it has been ordered. The only question is whether they appear before or after the delivery.
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The lesser mouse dwelling will remain unsanded – Brits might call that ‘living rough’.
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maybe? the problem is the little pickle has taken over vast portions of my workshop, so things got shoved where I can’t reach them without walking on boxes. This too shall pass.
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Ah, is she the “little” pickle?
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She’s younger, but the Younger Pickle sounds odd.
TBF she needs the space for business stock, and they’re moving here as we move out in about a month, so it all comes out in the wash.
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Court ordered fines for sand-spreading mice can obviously not be unpadded. Everyone knows that.
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So the Reader is a month out of surgery and his resting heart rate is running about 110 bpm. Today the cardiologist ran an EKG and an echo and saw faint signs of an atrial flutter. So tomorrow the Reader will undergo an outpatient procedure called Direct Current Cardioversion. As the cardiologist put it, he is going to hook a car battery to the Reader and attempt to shock his heart back into a normal rhythm. This is apparently a rare complication of valve repair (rare enough that it wasn’t discussed pre surgery).
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Adding to prayers.
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Thanks!
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If it helps my mom had valve repair in her sixties, and died at 91 from running downstairs carrying a vacuum!
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According to today’s echo, the repaired valve is working like a champ. Somehow along the way something got out of sync. When the Reader saw his surgeon for a 2 week followup, he thought this would just fade with time. Today, regular cardiologist added the Reader to tomorrow’s outpatient load as a forced add to the schedule.
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Prayers for your re-volting experience.
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The Reader wishes you a bushel of carp delivered from orbit.
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I hope the shocking experience is well worthwhile. (Sitting with a resting heart rate of 53. Better than my mid-30s first thing in the morning.) Yes, “pacemaker” comes up every time I see the cardiologist. So far, “it’ll be 20 years out, maybe”. OTOH, it used to be 30. That was 14 years ago, so I’m good.
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Maybe that’s what Indie is working on?
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That’s when you sell your little Chevy electric car, but you found you needed it for your round trip from Burkina Faso, so you bought it back.
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IF The Reader doesn’t post here first thing with “It’s ALIVE” after his procedure, I shall be most disappointed.
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Prayers up.
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