Some days I'm just glad that I'm not employed. in The Big, Blue, House. Year two.

I woke up still sleepy, but hungry. So I ate, took a third of a Benadryl, and sat down to internet shop while I waited for it to kick in. (Why are there a thousand varieties of nonskid kitchen mats? The paralysis of choice.) Then my digestive tract demanded my attention, as happens with IBS-C, so I made some hot cocoa, chugged that, and sat down to wait for my colon to behave. Then it was nearly lunch time. Now the day is half over and I’ve accomplished nothing aside from annoying people online.

I did feed the cats, and put away the dishes, but that’s about it.

But at least I don’t have to go to some unappreciative job, to be mistreated all day, just to be able to pay the rent. So there’s that. I think I know the secret to happiness: Having a horrible basis for comparison. If you start out in an awful position, mediocrity seems awesome.

Minerva in one of her favorite spots. I still have to hang the curtains back up. I’m very disappointed in myself. At least she seems unbothered. Of course I could do it right now, but I’d have to disturb her, and a pox be upon he who intentionally wakes a napping feline.