Impending outage.

Yow--le bloggeur is about to shut down for a little while, and a day of looking only at my textuality books has left me with little to offer anyhow besides a picture from yesterday's sunset. So I suppose that I'm off to embrace my bedtime.

[five minutes pass]

Perhaps it's not shutting down?

[pause again]

That still doesn't change the fact that I have little of note to share, other than a little bit of joy at how good it can feel just to sit still and work--even when said work is still just in the realm of intake, not yet at output. But, as I say: impending outage. The outwork is coming, the growth, the extension. The reaching. The foliage and festoons.

I think I'll soak and moisturize my feet before bed, in celebration of what's on its way.