If this pink eye keeps up, and all indications are that it will, I’ve got my costume

Jesus. Anybody had pink eye lately? It’s like your eyeball’s getting born every morning

And if the pink eye’s not scary enough for you, I have a face rash in the shape of a hatchet, and aliens living in my nasal cavities.

Also I have frightening new shoes, a yellow slicker, and leggings which I have become used to/dependent upon.

I haven’t worn anything with a waistband for almost two weeks

In my more lucid moments I know exactly what leggings are and that they are not pants. Also I know they are not my friend except for the honest part – because like drunks, children, and real friends – leggings don’t lie.

Daisy was thrilled the first few days I was home sick but I think she’s tired of me now. She’s hiding on me most of the time. When I can bribe her, I still stumble down the street with her, you know, in the outfit previously described, but I think she’s embarrassed.

If you feel like a hit of public school nostalgia, see how many words you can make out of the last word in that previous paragraph up there

I’m one of those people who never has enough time and while juggling this and that and the third ball, I’m sometimes thinking about how amazingly efficient I could be if I had just a little more time. I’d be who they mean when they say if you want anything done, give it to a busy person.

But in actual fact, I’m who they mean when they say if you want anything done, do it yourself because man have I ever been a slouch

I tried to clean up once but that didn’t last much past finding the vacuum cleaner. I tried to work on my second novel, The Poole Obits, but besides adding an e to Pool, which I am very uneasy about, I got nowhere. When you can’t decide whether to use they’re not or they aren’t, it’s time for a nap.

I feel almost fine today, just like I felt almost fine yesterday and the day before but when late afternoon comes my throat gets all grainy and my ears start to cackle and my head starts to thrum, which is a beautiful word that rarely fits in anywhere, just like me.

Up until now I did not know that sundowning affected one physically. I thought it was reserved for those poor souls whose minds are ebbing and flowing with dementia or Alzheimer’s – or even worse – not ebbing and flowing at all

I thought sundowning was kind of an anxiety related throw-back to caveman days when the setting sun meant all kinds of awful things could happen – a hand-me-down fear of the dark if you will or even if you won’t – because when you see sundowning in action, especially when you see the collective effect as in when you are visiting your dad in a nursing home at around four o’clock any afternoon, it’s mayhem. Add a surge of pain to the mix and it’s more than mayhem. Hell is what it is.

I’m going to go to True Davidson Acres when I’m better, which is where my dad was, to see about being a volunteer

The little sentences I put in red are mostly just fluff, mostly just for a laugh, mostly consequence-free, and mostly easily forgotten. But that one’s for keeps. I just emailed the person in charge and I’ll do for a stranger what was too difficult for me to do for my dad, which was to just be there.

*sigh*

I try not to regret anything which means I have to be very kind to myself as in forgiving and understanding. However, there is a limit to this and the leggings are going in the “out” pile soon as I take them off in a couple more days.