Cold rain and snow.
Feet aching and unhappy. Hard to think when every step is across hot wires, heel spikes, and broken glass.
Better now, home and in hot water, feet willing to carry me again, after I let them sleep.
Three days respite, a short week, then nine days off.
I can get through.
It all feels so harsh in this moment.
A papercut demands all attention.
Crossword in the paper. Five letters, starts with GR. Last Supper table item.
Gravy, right?
Appparently they expected grail. Dylan says maybe that’s what the gravy was served in. I will always now think of it as the Holy Gravy Boat.
How much is wrong about the "50 Eskimo words for snow." Worth reading to the end, even if you skim a bit in the middle. This quote:
Bad questions produce bad answers, and nothing is as mind-deadening as the confidently presented arrogance of facts reduced to numbers: what could be as irrelevant and useless as the number fifty?
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