Wednesday, November 11, 2020

Feeling Like a Bucket of Room Temperature Spit

Inspirational song: Ain't That Pretty At All (Warren Zevon)

Same migraine, different day. This isn't as much fun as it looks. I mean, technically I've lost a pound or two because I'm barely eating for a week. But this isn't the kind of loss that lasts. It would be nice to get something accomplished. Victories are few and far between lately. I had to lie down around noon and hide from the light. Didn't try to be vertical until almost 5, when the animals threatened to riot if dinner was another minute late.

I probably didn't need to be out on the road, but once full dark set in, I went to the grocery store. I got a few of the things we will need for a small Thanksgiving of just the two of us, plus everyone else by Zoom. I didn't get a turkey yet. They all seemed too big for two middle-aged folks to eat alone. I got some more stuff in case we lock down in all but name. November is getting ugly. I guess one more trip to Costco for toilet paper is in order before there is an actual announcement of new restrictions.

Yesterday my picture was of Dino being sleepy during a day of crankiness. It's only fair I lay bare how this week is treating me too. This is how I looked most of the afternoon. Dig the dark smudges that pass for eyes. It ain't that pretty at all, as the late genius said.

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