My hiney still hurts, but I believe a bit less. I spent most of yesterday lying on the couch in a Tylenol haze. I caught glimpses of several football games but could not tell you a single play or even who won.
I have been chilly the past day or so, but rather than adjust the thermostat, I got out a warmer blanket for the couch. (Outside temperatures run in the 90s.) Satchmo makes it one of his sleep stops now. His napping places rotate during the day like a sunflower follows the sun.
Many days I just go through the motions of living. I know, I need to get out. But what if I do not want to? I fear the habit that becomes a necessity that becomes a phobia. So far, the little old lady mask works, but what if a time comes when it will not? Then what will be my crutch?
I am not ready to die, but this existence does not work either. The first step of change always is the hardest.
Dude.
Later.
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