I am a model of restraint, I think. You couldn't tell it by looking at me, unless you measure the tensile strength of my corset strings, but you couldn't see that either. In the latest of my temporary jobs I have ended up in yet another machine shop, building yet another machine. With each of these jobs you meet a new group of men - not people, they're exclusively men.

A week and a half later, I was still deeply bothered by Lacey’s revelation about my mind being sealed off. While I had gotten my mind reading somewhat under control, I still hadn’t gotten my emotions under control. And being stuck in this godforsaken tiny house didn’t help me. The old lady refused to let me leave the house. She herself didn’t even leave. Her neighbors brought her everything, or so she said. I never saw anybody enter the house and when I was allowed to walk into the backyard for fresh air, I never saw any neighbors.

A trip of a diplomatic mission to Betelgeuse VII.

It has been brought to my attention more than once that I have a big mouth. I'm sure that you, my readers, have remarked on my talent for fearlessly offering opinion and advice from behind the safety of the printed page. Unlike talking, where my pontifications can be challenged by a loud "Oh yeah, that's what you say!", if someone out there wants to comment they have to take the time to compose their thoughts, put them on paper, find a stamp and mail the thing.