It looked like a great day. TYG was going to be out for most of it so I figured on kicking back, snuggling the dogs and watching movies. Instead, the Internet went out a little before noon. I spent about five hours trying and failing to restore it. First turning it off, turning it on. Then going back to factory settings. Then going to the help desk. More unplugging and rebooting and unplugging and deleting the Google Home app, then restoring it to my phone, then deleting the routers from the app … finally it appeared it was an outage after all. Except fixing the area outage didn’t fix things.
Finally they sent out a tech the next day. Turns out the router had died. Everything’s working now but dang, that was not a fun period.

In more cheerful news, TYG cut the first rose of the year off our rose bush — we haven’t been good about trimming it so the bud was unbalancing it — and brought it inside. Fragrance is beautiful. Even Plush Dudley thinks so.
The rose has blossomed beautifully.
Writing? Not much to say. Most of this week was spent on taxes. I thought for a while I’d have to apply for the six-month extension (it’s an automatic Yes if you ask) but we’d have had to figure out enough of the tax bill we could send in a check for what we owe — so what’s the point? I went ahead, crunched the numbers and it looks like the hit won’t be terrible. I’ve been wrong before but I think I caught all the errors. And some of them were actually in the government’s favor, like forgetting to deduct the money I pay for this website.
I got several thousand more words of Savage Adventures proofed and did a rewrite of a couple of older stories I never finished. “Honey For the Grave” is one of the shortest things I’ve ever written, coming in under 3,000 words. After some tweaking it looked surprisingly good. If I had a market for it (I spent some time looking) I’d submit it. Instead, I’ll probably read it to the writing group soon. “Die and Let Live” (still working on the title) isn’t anywhere near finishing but I have the plot, the premise and the ending payoff clear. Now I have to find a way to tell the story without being so damn expository.
Plushie is in good shape, full of energy and no digestive issues. He’s more likely to snuggle in my lap than sleep on the floor, which reflects TYG trimming off all his mats (and perhaps his tummy not hurting). This gets uncomfortable after a while — I wind up sitting in an awkward position — but I won’t push him out. He’s sixteen in November, which is old for a shih tsu mix, and I want to give him the best dog life possible until then.



































