Thursday amounted to much the same as Wednesday, and there's no surprise in that. All the days tend to be the same now. I did have my second sleep interrupted by a very noisy helicopter flying very low over the neighborhood, about eleven o'clock in the morning, judging from the pattern of shadows on the window blinds. I have no idea what it was doing, and I don't expect I'll ever find out. The mini-metropolis is full of mysteries, none of them very interesting.
There was a can of soup for dinner a few hours ago, and I got hungry again but couldn't find anything that appealed to me (alas for that lost, unbaked cake mix) so in desperation I finally ate a dill pickle spear. It tasted like summer seventy years ago. I wish I'd had a bologna sandwich and some potato chips to go with it. Maybe they'd have formed a time portal and I'd have actually gone back.
But most likely I'm stuck with the present moment and whatever future it generates. Somehow that future will have to replenish my food supply soon, but I haven't felt like making plans for that. I sort of like the idea of sleeping all the time, but that too appears to be impossible. Perhaps I'll try drinking more. I've still got a couple dozen cans of Tecate. There is also popcorn. A popcorn and beer diet for a couple of weeks might do wonders for my somnolence. The days are going to be too warm anyway, and rain is unlikely for at least another week. Things are not going well. I need a coma.