As the headline said, I’m unwell. I have aches and pains, always tired, and no appetite. And no enthusiasm for anything.
As a “fer-instance” we just finished Championship Weekend for NASCAR. Three days of intense racing and barnburner finishes, that I had to fight to stay awake through. Congrats to the winners and champions, I just wish I could remember who you are. Except Kyle Larson, fuck his racist ass.
Nothing new on the Sprint-T or Mini Sprint-T. The former’s stalled for lack of parts, the latter for lack of enthusiasm. I have the parts, tools, and raw stock to have the build done in a couple of days, a week at most, but getting the enthusiasm to actually do something about it? YAWN
I know where part of this comes from, Mrs. the Poet does not feel good and everytime I try to get amorous with her I get shunned or slapped. But that’s not enough to cover all of it. My usual levels of depression don’t cover it either, not even combined with the lack of a love life. Long story abridged too short for Reader’ Digest, there are multiple things taking a whack at my ability to do things. And I have nothing I can do to correct the situation.
I know this is way short of my usual gabfest where I go on for several hundred to a thousand words, but I just don’t have it in me today.
Witch on a Bicycle 