52/295-296-297: Cold

[rejectomorph]

It feels cold in here tonight. It's felt cold for quite a while. We had two days of rain, and the damp is chilling. I've spent a lot of time sleeping. Groceries were fetched Friday, an I forgot to order some things, and the store failed to include a couple of things I did order, and made a couple of substitutions that did not please me, but I guess that's what happens in a world that is falling apart.

I could compensate a bit by turning up the thermostat and making myself warmer for a while, but I got this month's utility bill the other day and it was scary. This hasn't even been that cold a month. I wonder what the January and February bills will be like? Probably horrendous. I don't think I can afford to get warm tonight.

I still haven't eaten Friday dinner, and should probably fix that now. My neck keeps itching, and it's very distracting. I trimmed my hair yesterday, and I don't think I got all the little cut bits off my head before putting on my clean shirt, and the little bits are probably drifting down onto the collar and stabbing me and making me itch. If it isn't one thing it's another, as they say.

Now I will attempt to cook, before the food rots away. I myself will continue to rot away whether I cook or not. But if I eat there will be more of me to rot. It will all balance out in the end.




Sunday Verse

From The Garden

by Anne Sexton


Come, my beloved,
consider the lilies.
We are of little faith.
We talk too much.
Put your mouthful of words away
and come with me to watch
the lilies open in such a field,
growing there like yachts,
slowly steering their petals
without nurses or clocks.
Let us consider the view:
A house where white clouds
decorate the muddy halls.
Oh, put away your good words
and your bad words. Spit out
your words like stones!
Come here! Come here!
Come eat my pleasant fruits.