'Ff'lo (fflo) wrote,
'Ff'lo
fflo

There go the Russians.

They're off on their leisurely stroll of an evening constitutional, as usual, despite the yucky hard pellets of sleet coming down into the miserable white-gray twilight.

Me, I cancelled my evening engagement, having been dogged all day by a nasty headache I woke with & have persevered through, managing to get some good social contact in and my wool socks washed and a few items picked up at the store (a snack for chorus tomorrow, and all but batteries on this list):


(If the house burns down tonight and I sleep through it, y'all can say "I coulda told you so" and/or "That was some prophetic dream.")

So, yeah, I'm skipping something good for me to try for unconsciousness, which I'm hoping will (a) happen and (b) be even better for me.  Tired of persevering.  Pain in the noggin is a category/location of pain I abide particularly poorly.

My eyeballs ache.

So it's sort of a lost day, while it was still a day of life.  A day on which a certain pained presence being present has made it something of a day out of order, a day askance, agog, akimbo, akilter.  Afuckedup.

This morning I was trying to remember a kind of "What do I want to do?" of a "this year" sort.  Feels as if it's a good time, dead of winter, to think of what I'd like to aim for with this year, besides the sloggy ongoing debt reduction project.  I have retained a few ideas that were occurring to me yesterday, but I don't feel the enthusiasm for them that I'd like to associate with (and thus foster in association with) the planning cogitations.  You know, to counteract the self-doubting pessimist.  So maybe it's better to leave contemplating that stuff further until the headache leaves me.

Sure hope I wake up tomorrow without it.

I'm skipping trash taking out tonight, too, pretty sure.  Unless I do that in conjunction with a midnight dog walk.

Here, I'll leave you with something less whiny:  these are some shots of my pup's challenge at the dog park the other day.  I like how the dogs did their version of a little ice-fishing hole.  It was fun to watch them have to aim with some care to stick their tongues in it.  It was like it was a tiny water bowl with more water in it that a bowl of such a diameter would be expected to contain.

 

It's character-building, this long winter.  Yes?  Yes.  Surely.  Shirley?

When I was young, I preferred the cold.  Digging the cozying up.  Not minding putting on more layers so much as I minded the overheated kind of energy sucking spent.  It's all about the warmth, though.  Now, gimme a warm day.

And, oh, O, the cozying up.
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