Waiting, as usual, for The Morkie to decide that she’s ready to come inside; this, after waiting until I had sat down to potentially scribble something (this, in fact) before deciding that she needed to venture out. This is the way.
Awful night of sleep, dreams of some form of brain surgery but that wasn’t the bad part: the bad part was people constantly coming to visit me when all I wanted was to be left alone. Apparently this undetermined procedure didn’t make me more sociable. Go figure.
Efforts being made to improve my handwriting. Working to not connect my block capitals as I’ve done for decades in my bastardized hybrid of cursive and all-caps. Closing the tops of letters, all that. Wouldn’t it be lovely if my handwritten notes were useful five minutes after I wrote them?
The Morkie calls.
