Still up, still standing. Sitting, but standing. Better than I was, those of you who are in the know to my hard-to-find far-flung nooks and crannies. Most of my love to Josh, this week, who has more than enough on his plate than to drop everything on my behalf...except he did, and simultaneously surprised me, and confirmed everything about himself that is contained in the imaginary Platonic Josh that lives in my head, extrapolated from his file.
You all have files, by the way. Someday I may trepan myself, and give you all a look.
'Till then, clade, consider this your conduit, your bloody shunt into my forebrain. And it says, I'm OK. Thanks for all your help.
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