Laconic Thursday
"Speak when you are angry and you will make the best speech you will ever regret."
A little later start than usual, because P's first case wasn't until 8:30. Fog's starting to lift out there.
Dean's looking uncomfortable in his post-surgical cone.
He developed a large hematoma in his left ear, apparently after fighting with Slane under the bed a couple nights back. The vet drained the ear blob, then sewed something that looks like a guitar pick onto the back of his ear to keep the drainage from returning. Poor Deano will be wearing this awkward thing for another three weeks.
For the record, I usually don't allow him to sit up there on the credenza behind my desk. I feel badly for him this morning, however, and am granting a little latitude with the house rules.
I figure I'll keep this one brief. Just depressed today, depressed last night sitting up alone in the dark after P went to bed listening to my father's favorite Charlie Rich record. Nothing is very much fun anymore. I would tell myself this will pass, but it's become a set point.
Back to work. My email is blowing up with clients wanting things, and I rarely get up from my computer during the week and a chunk of each day on the weekends.
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