If I kept a to-do list, I could tick things off as done, if I ever did anything

[desperance]

There. I have finished the proofread, and tumbled through the doorway thrust the manuscript at its anxious recipient with my final gasping breath, and fallen dead at her feet as is only appropriate, and they shall call this mad dash a Brenchley and I shall go down in memoriam, unless they call it a Sunnyvale and everybody forgets the man who ran it.

And now I am cooking a lunch of sossidges, with broccolini and mushrooms and onions on the side; and then we are going to Go Out. And Have Fun. At a matinee of Guardians of the Galaxy. Because We Can.