I'm in the process of programming tomorrow's Berkeley contra and my desk is covered wall-to-wall with a carefully-arranged layer of index cards. On the left edge is, was, the program I had sorted out before dinner. I came back in to take a look at it, carefully closing the door. My husband came in to ask a question, leaving the door open. Shortly thereafter, Sam the cat came flying through the air, skidding across the desk and sending cards flying every which way.

I have finally, with the doors closed again, re-created something like the program I had earlier.

This is another compelling argument for programming dances on the computer.

Kalia
Closing the door behind her

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