Vol. 7

The more I write about it, the more it becomes a pathology.

Like a cool pillow.

Our sheets need washing. I sweat right through them last night. Between the cleaning

and the arrival of guests.

At least make the effort, the thought being what counts.

 

 

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He’s a hermit homebody like me.

He said yesterday that he doesn’t like to meet strangers.

It is okay. 3 is not a lot.

 

I cannot drag him kicking and screaming.

It may be he’s just waiting for his body to be big enough to not fall into the toilet.

So it’s going to take a little limbering up to get back in the game.

 

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