One of the things I did buy at the store Monday was a bottle of fancy rum. When I got home I decided to sample a bit of it, and I might have sampled a bit too much. After about half the drink I mixed I was feeling so good that I thought I might walk over to Trader Joe's to get a head start on the additional shopping I was hoping to do today. There was still an hour of daylight then, but by the time I was nearing the end of the drink the sky was much dimmer, and so was I, and I decided to simply take a nap.
So Tuesday was pretty much just recovering from Monday, and I don't recall much of it. I did remember to bring in the wheelie bin and check the empty mailbox, but I still haven't gotten around to updating my check register with all of Monday's transactions. I also haven't gotten around to fixing dinner, even though I've got stuff I bought for actual meals. Monday night all I ate was a bowl of spicy ramen, which left me feeling pretty crappy.
Overnight tonight the wind will be picking up, and is expected to become quite strong. For the next two days the region has a red flag warming for extreme fire danger in effect. Hot, dry, and windy is the worst kind of weather to have here in early fall. Fires are likely to get started, and when they do they are likely to spread very rapidly. Maybe Chico will burn down and I won't have to go to the trouble of making a shopping list for Friday, or getting my brain organized, or tidying up the apartment, or anything else.
There are much better things than this to write, but I can't write them anymore. My words are swallowed by mere facts. I'm sitting here looking at the cramped little kitchen, and the bags of groceries sitting in the living room because there's not enough storage space, and I'm making and correcting typos, and I'm trying to remember stuff that I can't remember, and being sad about it, and I'm remembering the Agatha Christie novel that I can escape into sitting by the bedside, and I'm thinking I will sample some more of that rum. Going nowhere, nowhere to go, in the sad nocturnal mini-metropolis of my discontent. So it is. So it has become. So ever it what.
