...
Is that fucked up, or whut? And FURTHERMORE....
The wind is going every which kind of way, and I still don't even smell the smoke, but the nearly full moon does look a little on the going to be brown side, so.... And it's goddam still 76° here. I'm much more naked than I should be, given the number of doors and windows that are open. I am compensating for this by keeping the lights out... mostly... until I really do have to see something.
I actually ripped my phantasmagorical bed apart yesterday evening and washed the living fuck outta every bit of bedclothes, turned the mattress, vacuumed all the fuzz off of everything and then remade the whole business... known by entirely too few as Mount Glorious. It is the one thing about my situation that is really hard to complain about, but I do, of course, because I have been so out of it for so long that doing what I did last night has been, every time, a Shakespearean nightmare. Screaming muscles, streaming sweat, pounding heart, light head, heaving lungs and abject blob of aching old broad after it... for a couple three or four days.... So I tend to put it off.
Only, last night I did it all, and it's a lot, just like a normal person. I wasn't even out of breath. My lower back kind of groused a bit later, but a drap of aspirin took care of the whole thing. I was too hot. I was pissed off. And then this evening, suddenly, with no warning whatsoever, I jumped into my not-a-tub and scrubbed my whole me, despite all the damn yogic maneuvers required to do that. I brushed my teeth! I put in my contact lenses! I vacuumed more of the house! Despite being still too goddam hot.
You know, I think my change of diet and my long list of out there toxin-mitigation practices are starting to pay off.
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