The lightbulb has burnt out, I feel terrible, I didn't sleep much at all. But I had human contact yesterday, which felt good. It felt good to give up and do something else away from the house for hours and hours. You know. Instead of all the piling up of hideous things that I need to do.
And now I go, I go, I go into Tedfordland. There's a second story lodged in my brain like a wad of crap telepathically dumped into my head, it festers and uncoils itself but it isn't nearly ready enough to be pursued. Give it some time to age like cheese or wine. Or both. Going to unzip my birthproof safetysuit and unfurl the quantum keyboard---