So I had my fifteen minute drop-in at work after all, just not when I expected to. Eventually, in some magical far away dreamland, the staff will learn that a printer jam is not, in fact, an emergency.

Brought my mom her stuff, she seems to be settling in nicely.

Let's eat gourmet foods and talk frivolously, make cardboard models and tell stories about the creatures that inhabit them while we, uncreated ourselves, get moreso. That is to say, if anybody's buying, I need a drink.