Poor, poor "purtains." No one loves them. No one understands them. No one.
We started on the second phase of our work, and it's much, much more depressing than the first bit. I have an enduring tender spot for the Puritans, who were a people both strange and complex. To see them transformed into nasty, foolish, Roger-Williams-baiting jerks makes me sadsadsad.
In other news, the sun is out, the sky is blue, and a nice breeze is blowing. Of course, it smells like the paper mill, but why quibble when otherwise things are so nice? Two more days of Puritan abuse and then we'll be done with the work and I'll fly home to see Iain's new puzzle.
[EDIT UPDATE: Apparently, other folks are getting "puritian." I like that one, but it sounds spooky. Imagine the scene: a young woman, walking down a dark alley. Suddenly, she encounters a Puritian in a black cape! Within moments she's the mother of 8.5 children, all named Dorcas. The End.]
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