Since I didn't have energy, and there isn't anywhere to go, I just exhausted myself in front of the computer for a few hours, and then finished the day off with a book that soon put me to sleep. This means I woke up around midnight, and have been re-exhausting myself in front of the computer ever since. Today is going to be the last mild day for a while— probably quite a while— and Sunday is now pretty much certain to bring some real rain, while showers are possible every day after that for at least a week.
The details of Wednesday are mostly gone. Perhaps it's the monotony of these days that prevents them from sticking in my memory, or maybe it's just because my brain cells are dying in vast numbers. I have a vague impression that I spent some time remembering stuff that happened decades ago, and enjoyed it, and thinking that those things would be interesting things to write about, but now I can't remember what I remembered. By tomorrow I'll probably have forgotten that I remembered anything at all. Eventually I'm likely to forget that there is such a thing as remembering. That's when someone will put me in one of those places euphemistically described as a home. But that will be okay because, once I'm there, I soon won't remember ever having been anywhere else. All I'm likely to remember at the last is that I lost some cats. I think I'd rather be put in the pound to die, so I can imagine I found them.
On that cheerful note, I'm going to wash some dishes and then go read myself to sleep again.