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I started falling asleep about 2:45 yesterday afternoon. Cordelia got home about 3:10, so napping wasn't really an option. I stayed home, later, when Scott took Cordelia to PT. They picked up food on the way home because we don't have anything thawed to cook. (We still don't, but today is a better time for Scott to pick something up on his way home.)

I wrote a bit more than 2100 words yesterday. The next writing chore I need to do will involve editing and cutting, so it won't increase my word count.

I got far enough into a library book I've had for a while to know that it irritates me too much for me to finish it. At another point in time, I might finish it in spite of wanting to find the author and shake him until he admits that historical speculation doesn't actually work that way when one's writing non-fiction.

I leave soon for PT. I was going to take the bus, but it's raining, and I'm not enthusiastic about walking in the rain and then waiting at the bus stop. When I get home, I need to call to set up the A-Ride for getting to Medequip. I'll ask them how to handle getting home. I don't want to set a time for pick up given that I have no feel for how long this should take. I know they do same day rides (for more money), and I've seen mention of scheduling in advance for 'call for pick up,' but I don't know what that last means or how the price and waiting time might differ. I think the same day only costs a dollar more but has much longer wait times.

I've finished the next chapter of We Are Where We Began, but I'm not ready to post it yet because I keep looking at it and thinking that it's not quite right. Then again, I'm writing stories in that universe with the knowledge that only about half a dozen people will actually read them. They're mostly for me to have fun writing angsty, overly complicated and nasty character interactions. Worrying about the story isn't actually fun, so... Maybe I shouldn't?

But I'm thinking again about the problems I have with Zelazny's assertion that internal combustion engines don't work in Amber. Mainly, I keep wondering how that generalizes to other hydrocarbons (since I'm more willing to believe that gasoline doesn't combust than I am that the mechanical bits of the engine don't work). Doesn't that have implications for certain fundamental processes that make carbon based life (like the characters in the books and their horses and...) work at all?

Mostly, I just have to handwave that because the entire multiverse in the books breaks down once I start asking questions like that.

I talked to Scott's mother yesterday. We'll probably do the family birthday gathering over Memorial Day weekend. Mother's Day is going to be difficult, too, because Scott's sister and her family won't be available. Scott's mother would love to have us visit anyway, but I think there's something else going on that weekend. I just can't remember what. It might just be me mentally blocking off the weekend for the holiday and only thinking there's something else.

We have a school millage (sinking fund to pay for maintenance on the buildings) to vote on today. There's nothing else on our ballot, but I know that's not true in other parts of the state. I'm going to wait for Scott to get home before trying to get out to vote. It's not like there will be a line longer than about three people, no matter when I go. School millages-- any millages actually-- around here tend to do a lot better when they're not attached to a major election. I think that most of the people who'd vote against aren't strongly enough against to bother going out to vote.

February 2023

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