Managed to get in & out of Target without causing a scene, leaving my image as a pillar of strength intact, among the nonblogreading community at any rate. Drove away well stocked with paper goods, singing 'Ask' to myself. Also got a fresh supply of milk, maybe treat myself to a melancholy bowl of Count Chocula later, boy do I ever detest the stuff. Making reasonable progress on dutifully working through food supplies left behind by fleeing damsel, quite a lot of nicken choodle soup left, fresh out of sherry, wondering how it can be made reasonably palatable, add garlic maybe.
Despite most of my central nervous system's strong and recently reaffirmed commitment to pressing on with life and doing its best whatever the circumstances, the rest of my body is really showing some disturbing tendencies to throwing in the towel. It liked the old plan better, can't say I blame it, wish it would get with the program, I've tried reasoning with it, should maybe leave it in a gutter somewhere while I do some astral voyaging, wish I felt more confident it would miss me.
Wish, wish, wish, all the while shit's piling up in the other hand.