My perception of the passage of time has been severely fouled up this week. I awoke on Monday at Xanadu, but was home again by the end of the day. All week preparations have been underway for the parish festival, disrupting my now-usual routine of church activities. Dinner was graciously delivered to us by distaff kith Tuesday, Thursday, & to-day; combine this with my travels & the only time I've cooked all week was on Wednesday. In no way was the sensation of to-day the typical sensation of a Friday.
K. Steeze & I are both experiencing difficulties getting in touch with the Ace. Discussion & consultations are needed urgently, as TROIKA has been stalled for too long. We must move forward. The project's very motto is "Grow or die." As things stand, we're dying. Of course, that is when a priceless nugget from Alfred Bester's The Stars My Destination comes into play: "He was one hundred and seventy days dying and not yet dead." We're dying, but we're not yet dead.
Grow or die.