52/52: Trumors

I wasn't sure if I'd lost a day or not, such weird sleep I had. Now it looks like the days are all here, but Wednesday and Thursday have both vanished from my mind. They might have been washed away by a flood of other days welling up from the past, though those too have now gone back into oblivion. I ate a bunch of crackers instead of a meal, but now I'm thinking about a quick dinner. Maybe something microwaved. But then I don't know. I just remembered buying a small cheesecake last Friday and then sticking it in an obscure part of the refrigerator and promptly forgetting about it, so I dug it out and ate two slices, and that has taken the edge off my appetite. I definitely do not have my act together.

And there is a strange odor in this room which I can neither identify nor find the source of, and it's driving me batty. Phantom Odor, what a reason to have my sorry ass committed to a mental institution. But wait, we don't have mental institutions in California anymore, do we? Crazy folk are just hidden away in prisons, with other social undesirables. I don't think I'd like prison. I'll bet its noisy in there. On the other hand, the food is probably better than my cooking. Maybe I'll adjust. But it's probably premature to assume I'm going crazy. Most likely it's just the same old brain tumor causing it. What a relief! Tried and true is always the best. Except my cooking. That's crap.