Another storm has hit the area, but thankfully it only brought rain and not snow. Still, the winds are higher and the possibility of losing the electricity higher than the prior storm.
The work week is over, and now begins a period of ten days without the need to log in and do work. Although I will, since there was some work due today that there just wasn't time to finish. Just not tomorrow.
Ten days off, but in a pandemic-triggered self-quarantine, 25% of a quarantine in actual fact. Point is, I'm not going to Tabby's Place, or to The Borgata, or really anyplace designed for fun. What does that leave? Chores and projects are no substitute for a purring tabby or a dealt four-of-a-kind with a kicker.
But under the circumstances, they will have to do. A man can play Fishdom only so long. I haven't even re-installed the baseball game since installing the new hard drive on the laptop. (Being let down by the '58 Pirates and the '68 Cardinals back-to-back has been a major factor in that indifferent state of mind.)
Ignoring the Twitterverse and Facebook will allow more time for reading improving books. There's the Ernie Pyle collection from Apple books and Guadalcanal Diary from Amazon's Prime borrowing library; learning more about the everyday sacrifices of World War II troops will help force perspective on today's first world deprivation.
So Happy Christmas to all, as a 19th-Century Moore likely stole from its true author, and to all a good night.
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