It's drizzling again and today was the day I was going to Apalachicola but I am staying right here. Mr. Moon's sister has some sort of a stomach bug and I would not be of any help in that situation and so I will spend time today pulling some of the Virginia Creeper that's taking over the yard, which I have been meaning to get to for a long time.
The existential angst of life has overwhelmed me again and I feel heavy in body and in soul. A day to wonder why I even try- there is absolutely nothing I can do to stave off the inevitable chaos of it all.
Maurice naps on the table and her thoughts, if she has any at all beyond sleepy half dreams of chasing squirrels and lizards, probably center on why her human is such an asshole.
A good day to get dirty, to listen to Storm of Swords. Amazingly, as the book goes on, I find I do remember who people are. Not all of them and I could never name them but many. Most. A tribute to George R.R. Martin's writing and certainly not to my memory.
One of the ducks laid an egg with a little blood on it this morning and then I noticed as she ran to shovel in Luna's food in the pump house that she had a string of bloody mucous coming from her butt. I hope it's nothing but a little extra straining she had to do today. I am not up to any more poultry problems. Especially ones that involve blood out the ass.
Somewhere, someone is dancing in Paris.
Not me, baby.