A far too normal weekend. Two days for one thing. No trips. Seven hour sleeps. The household is polished gleaming by local standards, and even the office is in somewhat squared condition. The hard disks were my primary concern and progress was slow yet steady. I ran from their work and it will cost me some come Monday morning or shall I say with discontent, tomorrow.

The sun is warm flowing through the right side of the November glass.

One day I will put up the November glass poem very near here. It seems so far away from happening yet life moves so very fast.