51/08: Hic

Oh FFS I'm barely sentient anymore. Thursday night I had stuff sitting out for dinner and went into my room for a minute to lie down and just get an annoying kink out of my back, and I fell asleep. Though I woke up a couple of times, and remembered I had something that needed doing in the kitchen, I was unable to get my brain in gear sufficiently to drag my ass out of bed and go deal with it. By the time I finally got up the stuff had been sitting at room temperature for seven or eight hours, and I don't know if I should try to cook and eat it or not. A lot of bacteria can grow in that time, and I'm not sure if cooking will kill them or not. Plus I've got hiccups. I hate to eat with hiccups.

After a certain age one should probably not be living alone. The stupid is always trying to do you in. Or maybe it's what's left of the smart, which knows you're past it even if the rest of you doesn't. Don't come in out of the rain, you stupid old coot. Fatal pneumonia is just what you need! I wonder if I'll get dumb enough to try to end it all by sticking my head in the electric oven? Hic. Hic. Hic.