Yeah, Monday

     The Tamara mustered for Sick Call this a.m., and didn't want any chow.  This not at all usual.  She did manage to put away a good dose of limeade, so hopes are high for an early recovery.  Look after her, Internet.

     Me, well, um, y'see, the doc-in-a-box closed early Sunday.  While I'm as dizzy as ever, I am no dizzier.  I'm going to work, where I will avoid ladders and the like, and try the doc again this evening.  (Is this wise?  No. Wisdom would have looked up the hours Sunday and, thus informed, eschewed a long soak in the tub no matter how much better it made her feel.  So I had a nice excursion Sunday and got nowhere.)

     Ham and Swiss omelet this morning, too, with some three-day-old cornbread soaked in milk in the batter, which tastes way batter than it sounds. "Food is sleep," the Inuit are reputed to say, and sleep is healing, right?  By the transitive property of equality, things equal to the same thing are equal to one another and therefore I'll be eating plenty this morning.