Reset Forty-Three, Day Six

Somehow I managed to spend most of Thursday contemplating my own ridiculousness and periodically chuckling about it. I'm now pretty sure I've spent the last thirty years trapped in a version of Waiting for Godot with Laurel and Hardy, and I'm Edgar Kennedy being completely ignored by them because I have no part in the story, and all I could do was sit there in a comical state of rage. This realization felt very strange, because for most of the last few decades I've actually felt more like Margaret Dumont trapped on the set of a Ritz Brothers version of a Stephen King story, wondering where the hell Groucho is and if I'll ever get to sing.

I finally got tired of trying to figure out what was happening and just repeatedly listened to Art Garfunkle's 1975 version of "I Only Have Eyes for You" on YouTube. That made me feel much better. Now I think I'll go to sleep. Maybe things will make more sense when I wake up. And if.

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