I finally made it up to Alameda. One advantage of being really late is that it only took about 45 minutes once I got started.
Frida is off on a job, but Stuart is here, cheerful, and well-rested. His death march is actually over - successfully, no less. The site is treating patients, and seems quite happy.
And we're about to have some Thai take-out, just as soon as he gets Sabrina put to bed.
And how, I ask you, does one remain depressed in the face of Musamun curry?