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I’ve been up to my oxters in work this week and haven’t had any time for anything else.* Everything is connected to everything else. The office computer at MESA isn’t working, obliging me to do my notes by day by hand only to write them into the system at home in the evening hours. Hopefully this passes and the sooner the better.

It’s Saturday morning and the usual ‘there’s work to be done tasks” list is longer than usual. While my back was turned and glued to the screen La Casa de Spo has fallen into decay. The Cup Sprites (or someone like them) have made messes in every room and the pile of dirty duds to be laundered rivals the height of Fafner’s hoard. Oh the embarrassment and oh the horror to boot.

I am going to take in a deep breath and call on my Midwest matron ancestors to give me the strength and the Pine-sol to help with this mess. These Warrior Women when confronted with washing would roll up their sleeves to do battle against dust and debris. Generations of Spo who did justice against the lead-butt slow-leak attitudes of thems who were all too ready to accept squalor as OK means of life. By day’s end I hope all is done and if this goes really well I may get a hot dish out of it – but not too spicy as you know Uncle Milo has his troubles. Now who said that?

Come back tomorrow for something worthwhile to read. 🙂

*This is not literally true. There is some time (1-2 hours) in the evening when I could be doing things like reading blogs or writing entries but a part of my brain (frontolateral medial cortex I reckon) that puts me into a obstinate state of being in which I do nothing productive apparently to prevent the other brain parts from going into overload and staging dramatic breakdowns.

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