Apparently The Bay Area had an earthquake in the last hour, a 4.3. I missed it, but seeing as it was grounded 50 miles south that's not unusual.
I've been a bit low this month: so many talented people can't find work, housing in jeopardy, the panicked and insane landlady's behavior, various "unique" California states of mind which I have yet to figure out. I want us all to be well. I want us all to be happy. Preferably on my porch with a glass of prosecco as I force pork products on you.
I've sworn of scotch (but not cider) until this monkey's funk passes. Let it be soon.
To pull myself out of this funk, I've started a pair of mad lacy fuchsia socks. Since Jessica's socks are notoriously complicated, the game has to be stepped up even if it require four charts, five needles and Norwegian translation.
His Majesty Rameses made an appearance again today at the Dwight/Shattuck bus stop. He had a long white linen tunic and a very large ankh and looked very dapper indeed. I wonder if chicks of his dominion dig it.
Shout Out: Scott! Good luck on finishing that damned paper! go! go! go!