I aught to start a letter to the Pope. He is ultimately to blame for all that his children do.
At present I have the question of the soak-test length. In this instance I do a full restart: that introduces happiness by its converse.
Now I do need to make a note of the time; but on the other hand, rebooting will have done that for me. On the other hand--for which I stick out a leg--I don't bother setting clocks that don't have any form of retention (in other words, we needn't know what the time is, in order to be able to tell what time has passed).
By which I mean, capacitive retention.
It is one thing I found puzzling about kitchen appliances. No doubt you can get the feature at an extra cost, but what would it cost to have what a basic radio tuner had, some forty years ago?
Yeah, the conversations I've had have simply gotten us to face the facts that we aren't being given any fucking chance.
I'm somewhat reluctant to wait and look at what might show me that I'm still not done, but I'm certainly not starting anything new. So then I start wondering what I might have to experiment with, in the case that there are yet problems.
New ideas are pretty fucking rude, most of the time: most often they come with a claim of personality. The question, to me, comes down to the whether the idea is one that treats sand like fucking dirt.
That other children hadn't been told to eat the crusts was not something that we thought gave evidence that the Apocalypse was upon us.
Do you now say that it does? Fuck you, and all your descendents.