As usually is the case around that time of year, the world explodes at work. Lots of spreadsheet planning, very little real people stuff. Still, this is the time to cast new ideas, evolved over winter, into first figures and words on paper, later to be put into actions. So, the sore neck acquired hunching over the screen in the grind mill during endless hours shall pay off soon. I do hope.
grind mill songs, Jatyavarchi Ovi
