So I decided to do one thing I'd kept forgetting (or just putting off when I did remember it) and I updated my check register with the banking and shopping transactions of late last week. I'm glad it's done, but I can't say I feel any better about myself for having done it. As far as I can see, I'm still barely functional. I should probably fix and eat Wednesday night's dinner, but it feels too weird to be doing that at this time of day. Fifty-some years ago had this situation arisen (and something very similar frequently did) I'd have walked down to the Seven Stars Cafe and bought breakfast— probably a short stack of pancakes or a plate of scrambled eggs, hash browns and toast. I'm pretty sure that world once existed, even though my written record of it has been incinerated. It doesn't exist anymore though, and there would be no equivalent of it in this mini-metropolis even in normal times, so I'd still be left to my own devices, and my devices and I have a profoundly dysfunctional relationship.
Wednesday was much too warm despite a frequently overcast sky, and the apartment got much too warm too, and currently is still at 73 degrees even tough the HVAC fan has been on for hours and several windows are opened to let in the cool night air. I'm waiting until it gets a couple of degrees cooler before I take a shower. I hate taking showers in warm rooms almost as much as I hate taking them in cold rooms, and I really want a shower, even though the shower head is catawmapus and not properly showery anymore. Everything is fairly catawampus these days. I've said that before, haven't I? And everybody already knows that anyway, right? I didn't drink anything with alcohol in it Wednesday. Maybe that's the problem. Maybe I'm the problem.
Maybe I'm still asleep and this is all a dream.
Nah, no such luck.
