Tis an interesting thing to miss someone, to feel pinges of a whole other suite of emotions previously inaccessible. Jealousy, curiosity, warmth, Tis an interesting thing. Scary. Quite scary. But interesting.
Food. Not good. Bad. Dumb. So, tomorrow, I have options and I will exercise them and make sure I have some dinner to bring home and take a picture of my calendar.
Am very glad for a day at the shop tomorrow, after the battery died in the car and we had to get a jump, I feel a bit thrown. No time for a talk, though several bits of chat, today which was going to somehow happen but our times are all out of sync.
And Trump. What a sick, sad…horrifying pile of accusations that feel, as one might have once said, truthy. Soon to become wet, pungent truths.
And onward. For certainties.