I Wanted to Call It "Mister Hanky"

It is called the Santa cluster, and I'm on it. Where are you? All the equipment at LJ seems to be named after South Park characters. If Brad had been a Tolkien fan instead, I might be on the Gandalf cluster or the Strider cluster. If he had been fond of porno stars, I could be on the John Holmes cluster. Had he been an Ozzy freak, I might have been on the Mister Tinker Train cluster. These are the sort thoughts that come to me when my brain is muddled. Reality seems so arbitrary at times such as this. Well, no matter. Soon, I'm sure, a comet will crash into the earth and we'll all be dead anyway. Then donuts will be a thing of the past. Then there will be nobody to remember Pepto-Bismol. I shall now go to sleep and await the inevitable, which is either apocalypse or a cat jumping on my head. Goodnight, Santa- if that really is your name.

No Walk

Raining today, a rather cold rain. There will probably be snow at slightly higher elevations. If I still had a proper raincoat, and proper footgear, I'd go for a walk anyway. But, being the only person in the house to take care of two old people, I can't take the risk of ending up with an illness myself. There is a lot of work to be done in the house today, in any case, so I'd better get on with that. Every once in a while, I can stick my head out the door and sniff the air and feel the cool breeze. And, out the front window, I can see the large pink dogwood across the street in full flower, bright even on this grey day against the background of fresh green oak leaves and dark green pines. That will do for now.