Scattered

Thoughts of homunculi and hibiscus dance through my head, pushed aside by worry over the damage a friend has done to her life and herself. Where does brain chemistry end and the person begin? Is there even a distinction? To what extent are we responsible for our own actions, and not puppets of our hardwiring and coding errors in our wetware?

The days are growing shorter. Working the shift I'm on, I can see that clearly. I wanted to take pictures of the numerous varieties of Hibiscus syriaca - Rose of Sharon - that have been blooming in our yard since shortly after the Fourth of July, but the light is fading almost as soon as I get home. Granted, each of my work days has been pushed out an extra fifteen minutes to a half hour lately. Not that I'm complaining - more overtime putting cash in my account. Tomorrow is my day off, but I have signed up for two hours of overtime, so I should have a chance to get some photos in the garden.

(Or not. Today I had a call that lasted 4 hours 17 minutes 23 seconds - quite possibly a personal record. I did manage to talk someone down from doing something ridiculous with her reservations, and saved her many thousands of dollars in the process.)