I think I'm getting sick, finally, after everyone else in the family has had it- the gack, the hoopacoodis, the whatever-this-virus-is that I'd convinced myself I had to be immune to.
It's foggy as hell and no mulch fairy came in the night and spread that stuff around which is also depressing.
Here's another thing- the house dreams are back in full (thanks, antidepressant!) and although the totemic houses are becoming combined in the dreams, the vast amounts of garbage and trash in them only increases. I am happy to report, however, that no one seemed to need me to cook for them and I didn't see one appliance so that's good.
I'm sixty-two years old and seemingly as confused about life, my own and in general, as I've ever been and as aimless and directionless as I've ever been and the world seems as weird as it's ever been although that's probably not true if you think about World Wars and the plague and stuff like that. I will say that there are plagues and there are plagues and some are bacterial and are carried by vermin and some are not bacterial but are still carried by vermin and both have massive negative effects on the planet.
Well, how's that for cheerful news?
I think I'll go take a walk in the fog, seeking enlightenment which makes about as much sense as anything.