Rain continues while conelife remains a lesson in patience lending further credence to notion that, were I able to afford it, I'd rent an office elsewhere but I don't know of anyone willing to rent officespace to a writer making $58 every eight years in royalties (though my Ko-Fi goals of $20 a year are within reach); rolling in it.

Blood sugar returned to normal(ish) as soon as I decided to drop the NonFicThing telling of (my) T1Dlife. Work on MainFicThing has resumed in the sanctum of my creative respite, minus conelife interruptions. First chat for the next block of TSR episodes this afternoon, another chat on comics as memoir later this evening.

The day awaits, the rain does its thing. Dogchildren/conelife requirements of sustenance inbound; eight days of conelife remain.