I am just coming out from under the damp weight of a cold that the Palinode so thoughtfully infected me with just prior to our anniversary on the 11th. It's the gift that keeps on giving.
I've spent most of my time since then either reclining on the sofa or propping myself up on my elbows at the computer and declaring things to be BULLSHIT with my mind.
When I have a cold, I can spot bullshit at fifty feet, and, if anyone would pay any attention to me, I would declare 97% of all things BULLSHIT.
It's been all sweetness and light up in here.
I've also been in this wandering haze, and, looking back at my photos over the last couple of weeks, I honestly don't remember a good half of them. That one up there of the sidewalk? What was I doing? Was I lying down on the pavement?
I also get paranoid when I have a cold, and so I've had this sneaking suspicion that I am being watched all the time, but I'm thinking that if I am doing things like lying around on sidewalks in the middle of the afternoon, then maybe I'm asking for it.
Don't hate me because I'm writing all kinds of meaningful information here.
I have serious relevancy issues when I'm sick. I'm the gazelle the other gazelles dart away from to leave me as a distraction for the lions.
"Oh, hey, lions?" they would say. "You can take that pathetic one there with the toilet paper sticking out of her left nostril."
Okay, I had this idea when I got up this morning that I was seeing the ass end of this cold, but it has rallied, the bastard.
I'm just going to lie myself down on the Serengeti plain or wherever the hell it is that gazelles live and wait for a nice lion to pass by and offer me an actual facial tissue, because this repurposed toilet paper? It's BULLSHIT.