rejectomorph | Reset Forty-Nine, Day One Hundred Sixty-Six

Time seemed to move very slowly during my afternoon/evening nap Tuesday. I would wake up thinking hours had passed, look at the clock on the phone, and see that I'd been sleeping (or cat napping) for only an hour or so. After four such naps I decided it was time to get up and think about fixing some dinner. Dinner turned out okay, like something from the old days when I had a schedule and could still get intermittently organized. It got chilly fast this evening, and since dinner I've mostly been nodding off in front of the computer screen, one of my throws draped over me. I think I Might have done laundry Tuesday afternoon, or morning, or sometime, but I don't have any clear memory of it. My clearest memories are of things I imagined sixty years ago, and even those aren't very clear. I think my brain is trying to tell me in its own stupid way to go back to bed. I'll probably listen to it, but only because I really agree with it.