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