Kirby update: he's doing fine after his overnight stay and can come home – and coned – after 11. Must decide on appropriate cone-nickname for him; recycling of "Conehead the Barbarian" feeling most apposite.

That recycling seems to be the limits of my creative mind this morning as the first two chunks of writing were of the "forcing myself to fall asleep" varietal; I remain, however, most grateful that I've reached a moderate level of competence with the most important part of creative work: sitting with something even though it's in full-fledged torture mode, death by a thousand lackings.

The Great Cone-holio? Oh, I do like that one. Back to work.