rejectomorph | Reset Fifty, Day Sixty-One

Tuesday was a normal day, whatever that means. Nothing of note happened, which was not unexpected. Buzz vanished in the evening, and I thought for a while that perhaps he'd made an escape when I'd had the door open to go fetch the mail, or even that he'd landed somewhere out of my sight and died, given that he'd looked so nearly comatose the last time I'd seen him, but this morning he is back to pestering me, so I'm not alone again yet. I looked up flies on the Idernet and it turns out they can live up to two weeks if food is available, which it surely is in here. I drop crumbs everywhere.

It is quite delightfully cool this morning, and the predicted high is to be only 82, I might have looked forward enjoying the day were it not for the fact that (shudder) I have to go out. There are papers that must be signed in an actual office way across town, and my nephew is coming to pick me up around half past two. I've been spoiled by the cranky, half-assed digital signature site I've used the last few times papers needed sighing, though I invariably complain about it. If I ever have to use it again I'll complain then too, but today I'm sad that I don't get to endure its obnoxious frustrations but instead must go ride through horrifying traffic while folded up uncomfortably in a stinking, noisy car. But such is life for we the beast-marked in our doomed world of transactions.

Damn, now I've got Buzz envy. He doesn't have to sign crap, or use cars, and he doesn't have to shop, either. I do and the stores have utter crap sales this week. I'd put it off for another week but I don't think I can. I need stuff. I'll just have to pay way more than I want for it. Transactions. They'll be the death of me. But when?