Reset Thirty-Seven, Day Forty-One
Well let's see... oh, that's right. Monday. Monday was the day I had to turn a pot off and go to sleep, shortly after midnight. I did that, and woke up sometime that morning, I'm not sure exactly when, and then I spent the day, I'm not sure exactly how, and at some point I turned the pot back on and later ate something from it, but what I totally don't remember is whether I slept again that day or if I'm now still awake since Monday morning. I think I must have slept again at some point, but my mind is quite thoroughly blank on the matter. The only thing I know for certain is that I'm sitting here on a chilly Tuesday morning eating corn chips and typing what might well be gibberish into something I'm guessing is a computer. Alrighty then. So far, so... good?
So today is supposed to be the coolest day this week, with a high of a mere 59. Gosh, I love spring. Too bad it arrived in January this year. I just wasn't ready for it. I'm low on beer, have nothing to barbecue, haven't stocked up on antihistamines, and forgot to check my sunscreen supply. Ah, well, the whole state will probably be in flames by Sunday anyway, and I'll have to pack up and move again. But I intend to finish these chips before the flames get them. And this vodka. I lost nearly a liter of Absolut when Paradise burned, and I have no intention of letting that sort of thing happen again, even if preventing it destroys what's left of my liver. Who needs a liver in the apocalypse anyway?
I'm starting to think I might now have been awake for 27 or so hours after all. I'm feeling really punchy. Or maybe that's just the drink. Or maybe the first sign of a stroke. Anyway, maybe I could sleep again now. If only that spring sunshine battering through the window wasn't so bright. Or is that the fire getting started? Nah, the fire will smell smoky. Today smells like a freaking meadow in freaking March.
So today is supposed to be the coolest day this week, with a high of a mere 59. Gosh, I love spring. Too bad it arrived in January this year. I just wasn't ready for it. I'm low on beer, have nothing to barbecue, haven't stocked up on antihistamines, and forgot to check my sunscreen supply. Ah, well, the whole state will probably be in flames by Sunday anyway, and I'll have to pack up and move again. But I intend to finish these chips before the flames get them. And this vodka. I lost nearly a liter of Absolut when Paradise burned, and I have no intention of letting that sort of thing happen again, even if preventing it destroys what's left of my liver. Who needs a liver in the apocalypse anyway?
I'm starting to think I might now have been awake for 27 or so hours after all. I'm feeling really punchy. Or maybe that's just the drink. Or maybe the first sign of a stroke. Anyway, maybe I could sleep again now. If only that spring sunshine battering through the window wasn't so bright. Or is that the fire getting started? Nah, the fire will smell smoky. Today smells like a freaking meadow in freaking March.