4 thoughts on “396

  1. Oh, ichor…I left my Oxford AmEng at home. I’m just glad you have only visiting mud to pester your dreams and not the other NC disaster – aside from the Sacramento-obvious, that is. What are you doing up so late? Or, worse: early? Soon to bust your fourth century. Should (I know, both hands hold an equal amount of flies, even when held far apart) I begin numbering my feeble attempts to make finding them easier, or is the number-scheme something sinisterer?

  2. “petrichor” is missing from most dictionaries, at least my online one but it can be found on Wikipedia … Smell of earth after a long awaited rain… Sounds so Greeky…waiting for the haiku bug to leave me so I can embark on volumes and volumes of limericks or ad jingles…only the pure of heart can sleep nights…

  3. Gracias, ‘Spruce. The definition expands the wet. I keep a can of HeartFlush by the repository of rest and not the rest of the depository, so I fake Pure and just go for Ivory instead. I pounded out two between 2:50 and 4 HayHem this morn. The blood just refuses to be stilled: blame the blood and not the ‘crepituding cudgel I carry around under my brow. So, instead of working on frameworking I found myself perusing and fell into several nice traps. I think today I will escape early, do laundry and hang out my mind to dry after a nice soak. To press or iron is out of the question. I shall report back on Petrichor per Oxford’s attempt to ‘merucanhize our commonly unshared writespeak. Wellest be thou, good sir.

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