Got up this morning, and a shower followed by coffee was insufficient to wake me beyond the “staring blankly at the keyboard” stage.
The cats have been sleeping in the laundry basket, and removing the burrs in their fur there. My underwear was a painful experience today.
I have a cold sore and cannot kiss. I had no idea how much I kiss.
The founder of the company (father of four officers of the company) had surgery and is in a coma. The workplace was subdued in the extreme. I find that I am reacting to this rather more than I would have thought.
I did not run at lunch. I slept on the floor of my office.
My head hurt all day.
I forgot to eat until my blood sugar bottomed out late this afternoon.
The fig tree I’ve been harvesting was locked off when I arrived after work. There will be no figs.
The car part store did not have all the parts I need to finish fixing the carburator.
The parts they did have were the wrong ones, something I discovered after 90 minutes of working.
Othello cooked dinner. Bridgette is cooking a pie. I did not pettily strike out at well-meaning shallow attempts to make the world a better place. The day is looking up.
But, damn, I would just as soon have skipped this day, pie and all.
Crossposted from Epinepherine & Sophistry