The days are passing too quickly for getting anything useful done, yet slowly enough that I can see myself wasting time. Isn't that a paradox?
I'm trying to read, trying to write, trying to continue the de-homing of the house, trying to clean. Mostly I'm staring at things, or pretending not to stare. There's some day dreaming going on.
Pooty started his medication today. He liked it (hurray!) and then vomited it up shortly afterwards. We shall try it with some food this evening.
The weekend was spent catching up with friends and spending time eating. Eating was good. The Husband is doing all things mushroom.
It's too hot to move, too hot to think or breathe or even sleep. August is going too quickly, but it can't get over with soon enough. Isn't that a paradox?