Bueller? … Bueller? … Bueller? …

No dry eyes here. Just dry skin. Very dry. Up late last night again. Slow to get around this morning. It’s hard to get up when your body has seized up in the night. Everything stiff. Everything achy. These are the days I dislike most. And it’s dark and dreary and wet outside, which doesn’t help. 4 degrees at 8am. Hovering just above zero is painful stuff. Perhaps I’ll adjust. Perhaps. No time to dally here today I’m afraid. Duty calls. Opinions are expected.

Mood: achy
Drinking: coffee, black
Listening To: my own yawns
Hair: someday soon something shocking seems suitable

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