I am not well, and God only knows what is contaminating my clear thinking channels, but I have no reception at the moment.  I go to sleep with great hope of revival by nocturnal miracle, but I wake up the same.  Lightheartedness is like a language I knew but can’t remember.  It is a feeling of swimming under water warmer than the air.  When the same thing happened to my internet, I called up Time Warner and fired them.
I could cut and paste a rerun or just leave the page blank until I figure my slower than a herd of turtles self out, but I still have to cook.  I am making French Toast tonight with a slice of cheddar and roasted asparagus.  Ferdinand will refuse the asparagus–fair enough; the effect it has on him when he pees freaks him out–so he will have it with carrots instead.

When I am on the other side I will know that much more, which is a good thing. And on the very bright side–I feel times like this call for chocolate with abandon, tulips for no reason, and the serious consideration of salsa lessons.