A running list.

A variety of circumstances not entirely outside my control kept me from the office for most of last week, a week that among other things was both stressful and sweltering. Winston has lost an incredible amount of weight and though he's not necessarily "worse" he is certainly not better, and the anxiety this has caused is starting to make my fingertips tingle. We've all been coping best we can; I've been watching an inordinate amount of British television while the boy sleeps hidden under the bed, the boyfriend's had his work and his indecision. It's not been the greatest. But I have yet another doctor's appointment this afternoon while Win has his Wednesday morning, and assuming we all survive until our various engagements we'll pretty much continue buggering on.

We did, however, reach a milestone. By Sunday I had harvested quarts and quarts enough of heirloom cherry tomatoes that I made sauce (and its accompanying linguini) from scratch. It was (predictably) just fine.

These are the things I read about last week: the Higgs-Boson (duh), megalosauroids, Faraday cages, and coral reefs. These are the things I avoided: people, kale, and spoilers. I found two tiny calluses on my right palm; I used my left as a notepad. The days are days are days, one bleeding into the other and again and again. I don't even have nights anymore, just a string of days stretching on and back both. Just what does one do when presented with the infinite? Fuck if I know.