Oh, my good golly gosh. I go away for a little while to take care of business, only to find I left a mess behind me.
Yes, it was Ada, she of the glitteringly intricate historical horror, who asked the question about the semi-colon! Dang, sorry about that, Ada. No slight was intended; as I've mentioned elsewhere, I have become a comically absent-minded individual recently.
I'm studying two texts on the semi-colon question, but honestly, at the moment I've got tons and tons of swell blog posts (I've invented another new instrument, for example, changed my mind about getting a stereo, have found a likely ancestor of Don Marquis's Archie and Mehitabel, complete with Rube Goldberg illustration and three one-hundred-year-old stamps, thoughts on constructing a novel, thirteen ideas taken from my compost heap, and so on) that I'm not allowed to write about until I get further along with fucking Swill. Which I'm going to work on now, in a state of flustered terror.
Cathy may be gone, but as long as I live, her plaintive 'aaaaaaack!' and fist-sized panicky sweat-globs will live.
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