short because tired:

am back home and working; my dogs are silly; my fridge has milk and vegetables in it again and I can has mint tea; need more sleep and more time and to type up the crap in my notebook and I srsly don't even know how to start writing again so having stuff to type is either good or just jarringly weird like everything else; idk, I love Alastair Reynolds but am not sure he was a good idea at this point, though on the plus side at least I haven't yet caved and blown $20 in the Borders clearance for a copy of the LHM.

The lady from Norway told me to feel things one day at a time. I don't know her well, but this may be further proof that she is wonderful.

I keep coming back to a mental image; a string has been cut and everything that was hanging from it is tumbling towards the sea, and I have that vertigo-feeling of having to check, every so often, that I am not one of those things.