I missed half the game, but I’m happy to have a little Bruins hockey on a Thursday night. Suck it, COVID.

I missed half the game, but I’m happy to have a little Bruins hockey on a Thursday night. Suck it, COVID.

Patches is watching The Crown. She’s the Queen of all she surveys and is laughing at the Windsors and their silly little monarchy.

What do you think?


So I’m sitting at my desk watching hockey and I turn around and there she is… watching me.
Creepy.

It’s opening day for the NHL. It’s going to be a super screwy season again, assuming COVID lets us get through the whole thing, but it’s nice to have it back.
The Bruins start tomorrow. I’m ready.

Another tweak to my working from home workspace. I now have both my personal laptop and my new work laptop plugged into Jen’s gigantic, mammoth monitor. I still need to move my USB hub between the two lappy’s when I want to switch, as well as change the input setting on the monitor itself, but now I can use this desk for personal stuff, like posting to the blog or binge watching The Flash on Netflix, without having to use my work machine. I’ve got an HDMI input for one machine and a display port for the other. I still have a mini display port input available. If I can get my mitts on an adapter to convert to USB-C I can have a dedicated input for my MacBook too. Oh what a technological marvel our world is.
Patches is about as anti-nazi as a feline can get. She is pleased with the outcome of the events in the House of Representatives today.
However, she is also furious that it had to happen at all.
Damned nazi pricks.
Tonight’s guitar playing was much better than last night. Still not very good, but better. I put leads on two songs and both lead and rhythm on another. Eight songs still to go and six are ready to mix. A fuzz box was used extensively.



Yes, everything is dusty. If you don’t like it you can lick my sack, m’kay?
Patches is losing her shit waiting for the federal government to do something about the terrorist in the White House.
Something. Anything.

