OK, it's like this: I sat on Annie's boys (three-year-old twins. You do the math) last night and got home to find a message that the Client wanted me to head to the BLM this morning to copy some files. I didn't get to hit my normal routine and write up last night and edit and post this morning, so there's a big, blank spot.
It matches the one in my brain.
The good news? Nameless Knitting Sprite has a name! It's Morwynne. Anna-Liza (her mom) was poking around in the comments and bailed me out. It's good. Everybody should have a name. Though if you're going to go without, you could do worse than Nameless Knitting Sprite.
The bad news? I have a ton of work yet before I can leave at 3:45 for my SIGNATURE PEDICURE at the BROWN PALACE SPA, so 1) you'll have to wait for a day or two for the soap opera shitstorm update (Breaking News! We've downgraded Oceanic Shitstorm Marin to a Level Two Tropical Depression! Pictures at eleven!) and you'll be really pissed, 'cause it's not even that exciting, and 2) I have to wait for my Secret Pal package, which is apparently on my front porch, until much later than I'd get it if I were left to my own devices (i.e. -- tempted to run home RIGHT NOW and pay the $12 parking just to satisfy my curiosity and allay my nervous angst over the quality of postal service in my world).
See? It's really all about me, but I'm still thinking of you.
[SUMMARY: Same shitstorm, different day. Hey! Where's my shitstorm?]
Addendum: The boss's mother-in-law died late last week and I just got word on the service from a co-worker, so I'll be at a funeral tomorrow morning, possibly instead of blogging. I hope something juicy happens between now and the next blog to make the wait worthwhile for y'all.