Curse you, Will Shortz!

Today's New York Times crossword - a Tuesday, of which I have in the past made short work - is just rife with Stephen Sondheim musicals and songs from musicals. This fact has so far prevented me from finishing the puzzle, and that makes for a very poor birthday crossword indeed, Will Shortz.

Yes, it's my birthday, and it's gotten off well. I wrote a poem about bugs being analogs for air or the ether between everything - specifically, ants with wings. It's better than it sounds.

Liz proposes that I deliberately swear off work for the day. No notes, no editing poems. I wonder if to do so is within my power, but I'll try.