I suppose this could be construed as liveblogging my dad's heart surgery, yes.

[dira]

Heard from my eldest brother, who got the halfway progress report from the doctors: surgery is textbook, dad is doing great. Things were found not to be maximally bad, though still, you know, bad enough to warrant a quadruple bypass. iuliamentis is on her way to keep me company for the evening; I may make humorously-deployed lemon meringue pie from these lemons and make her watch Man from UNCLE with me.

Thank you, everyone, for the good wishes and hugs and love. I don't have an emoticon for attempting to hug back half the internet at once, but imagine it here if you will. You guys are the best.


I went to the library to distract myself, because, obviously, what do I find most soothing? A small research project. So now I have my very own personally photocopied, uh, copy of the Wimsey Papers (fictional correspondence among members of the Wimsey family and their associates, written by Dorothy L. Sayers in 1939 and 1940 and published weekly in London's Spectator magazine). I also, thanks to the wait for the lovely people in the periodicals department to go dig up a bound volume of magazines from storage (and then also the second wait, for them to go dig up a bound volume of the correct magazine) have a couple of hundred words of the aforementioned exchange fic. Humorously-deployed lemon meringue pie indeed.