I have a muse. At least as concerns this blog. But I'm not going to explain who it is or who I think it is. All I'll say on the matter is that the individual is a reader of mine. If you think you're the one I'm referring to, and it turns out that you are, I will make you a plate of brownies if you come forward.
Made it back to Cambridge this morning for Act II of my copy-getting adventure. Went smoothly. I dealt with the same clerk, the one who ended her workday in the midst of our transaction and maintained a rigid, off the clock, stance. Being highly sophisticated and evolved, I did not hold a grudge, yet I must confess I was always at the risk of being curt with her this morning.
Went to see Spira after work and helped her out a bit. She's recovering well from her operation, but is still mostly unable to fend for herself. I think we've been getting along so well lately because we have that in common. I made us a dinner of Thai lemon curry chicken leftovers, emptied the dishwasher, fed Missy The Dog and took her out so she could rid her body of waste, and, before I left, told Spira an epic tale that started with two men fleeing the darkest and most brutal of captors and ended with one of them killing the other in the ruddy moonlight over a whispered lie.
Who wants to play some music? Me. I do.
Anon.
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