Oh, lordy, I ache all over. And I'm starting to get a sore throat. And I have a chill. I'm tempted to write this day off as a bad idea and crawl back under the covers.
Lois McMaster Bujold has a new Miles Vorkosigan novel out, and in preparation I'm reading back through the series as a very enjoyable refresher. Just finished Young Miles last night, and now I'm off on Miles, Mystery & Mayhem, perhaps under an electric blanket.
When it was mentioned that the NTSB was at the explosion site in south Indy, airplane crash rumors briefly circulated. Nope, turns out the NTSB's investigative bailiwick includes pipeline accidents, which I guess makes a certain sort of sense if you look at it all squinty-eyed, since pipelines are transporting things. I learned that little factoid from reading about the San Bruno pipeline explosion in the book Crazifornia, thanks to a reader.
The news is on in the other room. The newsreader is telling me about violence in the Middle East. I don't know why he is doing this, because violence in the Middle East is practically the opposite of news.
"Oh! Palestinians are rocketing Israeli territory!" I was unaware they'd ever stopped. Any insurance company that underwrites anything within rocket range of the Gaza Strip deserves whatever they get, they're a worse insurance risk than Atlantic beachfront homes. "But, look! The Israelis are massing tanks on the border!" Wow, it's been almost three whole years since they last did that...