February 18th, 2021

the_hat

Reset Seventeen, Day Nine

I must have slept about seven hours Wednesday evening. I've been up since midnight, but still feel tired. There was no dinner, since I fell asleep before I could fix any, and didn't feel like dinner after I woke up. I kept thinking that pancakes would be nice, but I don't have the makings for them. I put some butter out to soften and intend to make a grilled cheese sandwich at some point. I still have a couple of bottles of stout, so I'm thinking I might have stout for breakfast like an English sot. Since nothing makes sense anymore, why try to be sensible?

It's not supposed to get very warm today, and late tonight and early Friday there could be more rain, but on Sunday the mini-heatwave begins, its predicted peak being 73 degrees on Monday. I don't know if the rest of the country will start to thaw out by then or not. While California's missing winter is distressing, I'm really glad right now that I don't live in Texas. That's just too much winter all at once.

When I woke up I remembered a strange dream I was having, but I have since forgotten it entirely. Thoughts don't stick around anymore. They are transient and homeless, wandering off through the world while I am stuck in Chico, which it occurs to me is like being in a box on which the lid has been closed. There isn't even a sky, let alone a distance. Distance is outside, beyond, invisible. I think about it all the time, but never encounter it anymore. It's where the pancakes probably are. I honestly don't expect to ever see pancakes again. I'd have to think outside the box, and I'm pretty sure the box has been locked. It's stifling in here, even when it's cold.

Grilled cheese and stout. Breakfast of champions.