Good morning, Stroock's Books weekenders, and happy Saturday.
Our computer is literally falling apart. What the actual ef?
So we visited a GP yesterday about some stomach trouble we've been having. Feels kind of like an ulcer. Then on his reco we saw a gastroenterologist that afternoon. They withdrew four vials of blood. Neither doctor saw fit to hit the panic button. A follow up is being scheduled.
Try getting in to see a specialist on three hours' notice in the YooKay or Canada! Our fellow North American says you can schedule their MAID death service in a day, though. Which is nice.
A day of running around between doctors' offices and trying to set up one of them new patient portal accounts* left us tired and a bit miffed.
Even so we had a fine evening last night at a Somerset Patriots game. We sat behind home plate, row G. The temps were perfectly cool. Yankees hurler Gerrit Cole made a rehab start and the Patriots won 8-7 in the bottom of the 10th, or 'overtime' as Middle Daughter called it.
War of the ants...we've deployed three different kinds of ant traps. Weirdly, we see dead ants and ants that look like they're crawling through the desert dying of thirst. But we see plenty of live ants too. Weird. We're going to try setting ambushes, a bowl of sugar on the front porch. Draw them in and strike.
The things.
Both World War 1990: The Managua Campaign (38,000 words) and The Fourth Day (26,000 words) are progressing nicely.
*Codes were sent. Log ins rejected. Accounts locked. We are less and
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