Justin: In the Feast of Being Able to. Amen.

As you were… as I want you to be…

This morning I sat down at my desk, logged in and began tackling email, then suddenly felt a sting on my pinky finger. Looking down at my hand I discovered that I had skinned my knuckle a some point while hurrying about to get to work. Looking back on it, I think it was likely as I hurriedly exited the house. This happens to me some times, specifically with the knuckles. Frequently I can blame the cat.

Pain sometimes waits to hit us until we have moved on. Maybe it waits or maybe we have been too distracted to notice, until finally, we put our hands on the keyboard and start to type, only to realize there’s a wounded piece of us that is going to have to heal before working as intended.

Which is a pathetic segue to saying that I visited the vet today at lunch and got Floyd signed up for shots and ‘tutoring’. These necessary evils will take place one day next week, after which the small boy will never again be ‘working as intended’. Then again, *I’ve* never been fixed, but – never mind. Suffice it to say I have excellent intentions.

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