Reset Forty-Nine, Day Two Hundred Twenty-Six

Saturday's rain didn't amount to much, and as the day wore on, the sky lost its clouds and grew boringly clear. I slept through much of it, of course, and then through much of the evening as well. I baked a potato for lunch, popped open a Guinness to wash it down, and then was not surprised to find myself growing logy and in need of a nap. The nap grew long and I woke after nightfall, then spent time fretting over the accumulation of unwashed dishes, but couldn't get my thought organized enough to actually do anything about them, then went fuzzy-brained again and slept some more, waking near midnight, another day having fled into the oblivion of forgetfulness. Boring, to be sure. So sue me. I'm about ready to sue myself.

One very dumb thing I did was to forget that I had started a batch of cold brew coffee Friday afternoon and it needed to be decanted Saturday morning. The task waited until after my most recent nap, so it brewed for over thirty hours, or at least twice what it should have. I haven't tasted the results yet but I fear it might be undrinkable. Perhaps I'll be able to treat it like a coffee concentrate and dilute it. I can think of it as my dementia brew. Of course if I put some Kahlua and vodka in it, in sufficient amounts, I won't care what it tastes like after the first few.

But now night is nearly exhausted, and so am I. My brain is wanting to unplug from ordinary reality, which seems less real by the day. Oddly, no matter how less real it gets it never seems to get less ordinary. No wonder I'd rather be crazy.


( Sunday Verse )