
It’s an ill wind, etc.
Yesterday a real window-rattler blew through, stripping all the brown needles from the pines and scattering them along our driveway and into the cul-de-sac. Also, and too, the back yard.
Then overnight, we got a little drizzle, followed by a soupçon of — wait for it — actual snow this morning.
Little accumulation is expected, but our widget said we’d gotten 0.06 inch by 8:15 a.m. (which became 0.22 inch by 4:15 p.m.), so ’ray for us, amirite? Something to blog about other than genocide, sedition, and creeping idiocy, against which a vaccine there is not.
Speaking of which, Herself got the latest Bug shot on Tuesday and it knocked her flat on her teensy little keister. Spent most of Wednesday in the bed and lost all interest in the delicious meals prepared thrice daily by Your Humble Narrator.
Yesterday she began shambling around and about a bit and today she seems much more like Herself (haw), though her appetite remains AWOL; breakfast was coffee and a bite of whole-wheat toast with butter and jam.
I haven’t gotten stuck yet. My last shot was almost exactly a year ago, at one of the local senior centers, and I suppose I should go get myself the latest and greatest, though it apparently targets the variant before the one that is currently dominant.
But goddamnit it, I like my food. And blogging from the bed is unsatisfactory.
On that topic, no word from the Happiness Engineers about the overwrought comments window, which seems to have magically downsized itself overnight to the version I saw over at Better Burque.
I suspect that some of our WordPress issues might be resolved if I were to abandon the Classic Editor for the Block Editor, but I consider this a last resort.
A theme change might help — as I’ve mentioned before, this one, Kubrick, has been “retired.” But I like its simplicity and several test drives have failed to turn up any suitable replacement that doesn’t somehow start inching me into that goldurned, consarned, dadblasted Block Editor, like some old fart tottering into assisted living with Big Nurse on his six.
Not yet, goddamnit. Not yet.


