Stay in, stay out, rest. Fret. Putter. Drink water, read, look in on work that by all rights can wait until tomorrow. Punt on the call. Listen to the new Duran Duran album. Bookmark two dozen albums to listen to over the next few weeks. Consider making a haircut and maybe another thing happen soon.

A drowsy black cat who answers to the name Begum sits, eyes closed and still, on a gray duvet in wan mid morning light in a gray room.

No giving without taking, them’s the rules. I couldn’t get a new device in hand and a smooth transfer of enough of its data without a multi-hour neighborhood outage. We’ve had no wifi since very early today. At least there’s, you know, power and water, and no obviouses like weather or the E-word.

The second shot I took on this new phone, who dis: a distant view from a block of so away, just as I'm slowly crawling onto the 8th Street on-ramp in late afternoon rush hour eastbound Interstate 80 traffic, of a black billboard with electric blue capital lettering on it that reads "Birthplace of the chatbot that wrote this"

A break in the rain, with the attendant pressure rise and clearing clouds, brings a little clarity. Things seen at distances look closer. Perspective turns deceptive. One swings a razor around and cuts oneself shaving. Maybe last night’s sleep wasn’t at issue; maybe it’ll be tonight or tomorrow’s.

A chalk white first quarter moon in black night sky, seen while looking south from my balcony.