Felt really bad earlier.

As in, a terrible tension gripped by body and my mind and felt like it was going to tear me apart, or maybe I’d just explode.

Exploding seemed like a very attractive option. All that tension gone in one orgasmic cloudburst. Kaboom. Ahhhhhh, lovely.

Slight drawback: I’d be dead.

There’s always SOMEthing.

It really felt like my muscles were trying to murder my skeleton. Just squeeze it into jelly.

This has happened before, though, and I think I have sussed^[1] out why.

It all has to do with my skin, and my excessively large pores.

See, now that things have gone back to “normal”, I only leave the house once a week, on Sunday nights.

Which would be fine except that I only shower before I go out, meaning that right now I only shower once a week.

Pretty gross, I know. I got issues. Fair warning, it only gets worse from here.

And well, once a week ain’t enough. The previous and superior normal, where I went out for McD’s with Le Gang three times a week. was barely enough.

Ideally I would shower daily. But uh, that’s not going to happen.

On the once a week schedule, my pores get more and more clogged over the week and I get sicker and sicker, overheating easily as the thermal transfer efficiency of my skin goes all to hell and I end up mildly heat sick all the time.

But then Sunday comes around, and I take a shower, and everything is healthy again for now, right?

Possibly. But, not necessarily.

Sometimes, what happens instead is that my pores only end up partially declogged, and the remaining clog is drives deeper and harder into my pores.

This turns a soft clog to a hard clog, and as I sweat and whatnot, pressure builds behind that hard clog and results in my recent form of agony as if my entire skin had a bone stuck in its throat.

The agony persists until the pressure finally pops the damned clog, and suddenly the fever breaks and I feel sooooo much better.

Its a nasty issue and a most unpleasant experience, and so it would be best avoided if that is at all possible. But how?

1. Shower more often. Obviously. Three times a week at least. The easiest way to do that would be to shower on Tuesdays and Fridays as if I was going out. Seems doable at least in theory.
2. Shower better. Get pore-cleansing body wash. And a really good loofah. I am willing to suffer a bit for superior cleansing. Hotter showers would also help, but I have to be super careful not to trigger my tendency towards heatstroke. Set that off, and I’m not just sick, I’m in danger, because the shower is a very bad place to suddenly become dizzy and nauseous
3. Shower with a well hung muscular black dude who rewards cleanliness with hot gay sex. Mind be hard (!) to pull off, but you got to admit, it would work.
4. Try to invent the human washing machine. Or rather, a washing machine for people. It could be so nice. You just sit down in it and it does the rest. Kind of like those old timey steam baths that close around you leaving only your head exposed. Only more washy but less scary.
5. Go to the local cash wash and try to convince them I am a car. Could be fun, but also probably would kill me.
6. Save up and go to a fancy spa where they have a zillion ways to cleanse you. Honestly, this one has a lot of appeal. Bring it on. Hot rocks, algae packs, deep tissue massage, rubbing me with weird leaves, whatever you got. Wring me out and hang me up to dry.

So it’s a fixable issue, for sure. In theory.

In practice, there’s no way to know what my depression will actually let me do.

But it’s good to have options.

More after the break.

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Covid ruins everything

Of course, the problem with the otherwise brilliantly rational spa plan is that I can’t imagine there are a lot of spas open in the age of COVID.

I mean, I could be wrong. It could be that spas are going great because so many of their treatments involve germ-killing heat or weird organic chemicals and whatnot.

But I doubt it. Science be damned, I don’t want to get into the hot oil bath (or whatever) ten other people have used today unless I personally saw them sanitize the thing to my satisfaction every single time,.

And even then, maybe not. Fucking Covid.

Covid has even managed to invade my video game world. See, I want to upgrade this here computer of mine, and according to my techier friends, that means starting with an upgrade to my computer’s GPU.

Or “graphics card” as it is known to us oldschoolers.

Problem is, Covid has shut down or crippled many major chip manufacturers and that means the major GPU makers like ASUS can’t make new GPUs and that means the prices for the ones still on the shelves have gone through the fucking roof.

So no new GPU for me for the time being. Dammit.

And of course, I still really really miss restaurants. There is something special about breaking bread together with loved ones that nothing can replace.

And not only is that impossible to do in a restaurant due to Covid, you can’t even have people over and feed them yourself.

To me, that shit is the worst non-medical consequence of this fucking plague : the interference with all the simple, wholesome human bonding activities like birthday parties, eating out with friends, and even getting together for the holidays.

Being a squishy sentimentalist despite my size, this shit breaks my heart.

Fuck you. Covid.

Fuck you in the ASS.

I can’t wait till the vaccines put your in your grave.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.

[[1]] The Windows dictionary didn’t have “suss”. I had to add it. Have I really lived long enough for Seventies slang to have become archaic? [[1[[