I have been so engrossed in the minutiae-based research currently commanding my attention at work that I completely forgot to go to the meeting yesterday where we were all supposed to talk about what we've been working on for the past month. Oops. The boss graciously accepted my e-mailed apology. I could go into detail about the work, but it's pretty damn dry.
In lieu of stone flake size parameters and their behavioral implications, here's a link to a horrifyingly interesting story about female hyaena reproductive anatomy. The possibilities offered by a 4-inch clitoris might be initially appealing, but the rest of it? Uh, not so much. Sweet Jesus.
Tomorrow's forecast calls for a 90% chance of more mind-numbing sets of calculations with scattered runs for coffee alternating with banging the scientific forehead on the scientific desk. Accumulations may be heavy at times; travelers to the Cube of Science are advised to take precautionary measures. Dangling a cold beer from the end of a stick might be a good start.