Really? Crap. Now what am I supposed to do?

Oh right. Write about stuff. In my head. Weird.

Well it’s not like I have any life events to report, for which I should be grateful as my most frequent source of news to share is my deteriorating health.

No fresh hell for that front to report, at least.

Oh, I get the feeling it’s time for me to get a new monitor because mine has developed this black line running from the top of the screen to the bottom around a third of the way from the left side.

When I first saw it, I immediately thought it had somehow gotten scratched, but nope, that would be way too normal and easy to deal with for my life.

The surface of the screen is unmarred. Which is a relief in one sense because I would have had no idea how the heck it would have gotten scratched.

I never even touch the thing. I don’t even remember where the on/off switch is. It’s always just been there.

But it is quite elderly. I got it over a decade ago and I bought it used. So if it was to develop an eccentricity now would be entirely understandable.

The crazy thing about this black line is that it’s so sharply and distinctly BLACK. It makes it look like a real physical thing.

As if somehow the screen had gotten scratched on the INSIDE. Spooky!

But I know that’s not the case either because the exact thickness of the line varies over time and sometimes the dang thing disappears completely.

So like, WTF, right?

Luckily it’s not hard for me to just kind of tune it out. So it’s not really a huge problem yet, just a little reminder that it’s time to get a new monitor.

Ah well, patient readers know I was already contemplating getting a new monitor anyhow. This one had served me well for many years but nothing lasts forever.

Besides, I want a sleek new monitor to go with my hot new video card. If I am lucky I will be able to afford something nice and bed with absurd resolution levels.

The card continues to perform well. Although when it is in full use, like when I am playing No Man’s Sky, I can feel the extra heat coming out of the main ventilation area of my computer.

Made me worry I was running a serious fever the first time it happened!

I’ve finished one main leg of one of the main plotlines in NMS.

SPOILER ALERT. There’s a spoiler coming. Be alert to it.

Had an opportunity to reboot the universe but decided, nah, I still got stuff to do.

Besides, I don’t buy this whole “the multiverse is just a simulation” crap. I’m a pragmatist. If it behaves exactly like objective reality, that’s real enough for me.

Regardless of whether there’s some enormous depressed megacomputing AI out there who thinks it is God yet somehow needs me to turn it off and on again.

Do it yourself, dammit. And leave us mortal sentients out of it!

More after the break.

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A new record!

Now I am eating “supper” at 11 pm!

For the usual reason : sleeping when I should have been eating/blogging.

But in my defense, I lay down at 7 pm. Normally that would get me to 9 pm, not 11 pm.

How was I supposed to know I would get four hours of healthy sleep?

I mean, what are the odds?

And now, as a result of this freak occurrence, I am actually feeling a bit of time pressure because I have to get my remaining words out between now and midnight.

Easily done for a fertile mind such as mine, but still. Pressure. Ick.

I’ve been in one of my less contemplative modes lately. That’s why these blog entries have been more chatty and less deep.

For the moment at least, that’s a good thing. Means I am feeling relatively well put together and focused and content.

It’s when I am in my more usual mode of feeling wretched and depressed that I dive down my navel in search of therapeutic treasure.

Avast, men… thar be unresolved traumas! And by the way they are fighting being brought to shore, I can tell they be big ones!

As always, I wish I could get better faster. There are times when I feel like a fool, standing here with my little pail and shovel trying to dig up the bones of s whale with my paltry little words.

But it’s all I can do. All I know how to do. What I really need is some kind of deep spiritual event to turn over the soil of my mind to allow for fresh growth and give me access to that all important thing I lack : renewal.

That’s what living in survival mode denies me. On a really goddamned deep level, I am all about just making it through the day, as if I lived in a war zone.

But I don’t. I am perfectly safe. The war ended when I was a child. There are no bullies in my life. No coldhearted authority figures who just want me to go away. No wolves at the door, no barbarians at the gates.

Just my tired old inner demons singing the same old songs and wearing the same old scary masks so they can keep me locked up in this musty old castle of mine.

On paper, I have everything I need to recover. Time, food, shelter, medicine.

But unfortunately depression is not like the common cold or the flu. You can’t just rest up and get plenty of fluids and wait for it to pass.

You have to actually do stuff. Heavy stuff. Difficult stuff. And you have to do it with your own mind fighting you tooth and nail the whole time.

And you have to do it alone. Nobody can come into your mind and fight with you. Or for you. Ultimately it is just you versus yourself, day in, day out.

No wonder we depressives are so tired all the time.

We’re driving with the parking brake on. All the time.

I will talk to your nice people again tomorrow.

Yup. It’s another video!

You know, fella, when you talk about “false stereotypes”, it kind of implies the existence of true ones Which ones might those be?

Anyhow, on with the show!

A. INTJs are honest

Yup. Like the vid says, we don’t inherently want to sugar-coat anything. However, in my case, that is well tempered by my being both highly realistic and extremely sensitive.

That means that I cannot pretend that being disinclined towards softening my words somehow means I don’t have to do so.

I hold myself fully accountable for all the reasonably foreseeable consequences of my actions, and I know that my natural bluntness can really hurt people.

So I learned to be diplomatic. I choose my words very carefully because I am always on a tightrope between honesty and sensitivity.

I won’t lie to you. I won’t lie to anyone, really. But I will make the truth hurt as little as possible unless I am VERY out of sorts.

B. INTJs are too efficient

NO SUCH THING!

OK, not really, but I felt that part of me had to have its say or it would never shut up.

At first I was going to strongly object to him accusing me of being a perfectionist. I can’t stand perfectionism. It’s so inefficient!

But I suppose it IS rather perfectionistic of me to feel the need to point that out,

It does upset me greatly when people are being inefficient. But that does not entitle people to obey me when I point it out. I still have to talk them into it.

Or at least explain myself sufficiently.

Put me in a leadership position, however, and I might become quite demanding. And I am aware of this as a dark road I might go down if I don’t watch myself.

C. INTJs are intimidating

This again. Yeah we sure can be. For one thing, our combination of swift decisiveness and confidence can make it easy to end up accidentally pushing less decisive types around without meaning to.

Even if we are being polite and reasonable about everything, the sheer power and speed of how we think means we can make ten moves in the time it takes someone else to make one, and that is freaking terrifying.

So as much as it sometimes feels like it’s going to kill me to slow down to the speed of everyone else, again, I don’t think that means I don’t have to do it.

D. People think it’s hard to gain an INTJs trust

And they’re right, at least in my case.

But it depends on what kind of trust we are talking about. I don’t think the world is full of backstabbing liars out to get me, for instance.

On the other hand, there are few people I feel I can rely on. To me, the world is inconstant, easily distracted, and not very invested in what it’s doing. ^[1]

So whilst I am friendly and pleasant towards all, most people I would not trust with anything of value.

Harsh but true.

More after the break.

[[1]] Which is also how I would describe my family. Not a coincidence. [[1]

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3 to go

E. INTJs are extremely independent

Yup, Or as one teacher described me, “self-contained”. And unlike some of these other attributes, I really don’t feel like I have a choice in this one and there’s no wiggle room.

Mine is a discrete and self-motivating world. I can’t imagine anything else being compatible with how driven I am to make things better. I can’t handle waiting for consensus or pausing to let the slowest ones catch up.

I need to move ahead NOW. Try and hold me back and you become just another obstacle for me to overcome and I will go over, around, or through you.

When I am in full INTJ mode, the world is divided into three categories : aids, impediments, and irrelevancies.

I know this is harshly robotic and mechanical to most people. I totally understand that. It seems that way to me, too.

Nevertheless, it’s a deep and fundamental part of who I am.

As for caring about others, it would hurt me deeply if people thought I didn’t care about anyone just because I keep a cool head and can make difficult decisions.

That doesn’t mean I don’t care. I care deeply. I am constantly looking to make things better for everyone. The humanist concerns are always paramount to me.

I just think that being coolly rational and yes, calculating is the best way for me to get the best outcomes, all things considered.

Or at the very least, that’s the best way for me to do it.

F. INTJs are nice

Well I know I am!

Seriously, though, this would not shock me at all because I’ve been considered a nice person for most of my life. My default persona is sunny and sweet and I am genuinely concerned with the welfare of everyone and want people to be happy and do well.

But I admit, in some circumstances, I end up expressing that in ways that seem baffling to people who operate on an entirely different set of variables than I do.

So I must seem almost treacherously schizophrenic to people who have only known the warm and fluffy Fru to see me switch into “computer mode”.

To me there is no conflict. I have different modes for different purposes, but they are just tools. Costumes I can switch between. But the person inside the fursuit never changes.

G. INTJs are way too strong

Oooh, I can totally see how I could come across like that. That quick, clever and confident manner of mine could easily be taken as bulletproof strength by someone not in possession of the full picture.

And they wouldn’t be wrong, exactly. That strength represents real power and effectiveness in the world. People like me can draw and direct great power to ourselves because we can move through the world with such confidence and clarity.

But I’m no Superman. I’m actually quite sensitive and vulnerable, especially in my private moments when I am just me unto myself. I take everything in on a very deeply level and that’s as much how I choose to live as it is my fundamental nature.

I’d rather be sensitive and get the full information that brings than be numb and known nothing about what’s really going on.

If that means I get hurt sometimes, fine.

That’s information too.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow./

And today’s psychology vid is :

And this time, I am going to make notes WHILE I watch it!

Oooh, how exciting!

A. Neurosis as a failure to adapt

That tracks, at least for me. I started off the queerest of ducks and never adapted to the world around me. Possibly because I built a little world of my own inside my head.

And things are so much easier there.

B. “…fills us with guilt for a life not lived…”

Ouch. Yup. That’s one form of guilt I have made no inroads against. When I think of the decades of life I have spent doing very little it horrifies me and no matter how much I tell myself that it wasn’t by choice because I’ve been sick, I never really believe it.

Maybe I just don’t want to face having that little power over my life. I dunno.

It still feels like I have wasted my life. And yet, I know that, on a deep level, that’s the exact kind of thinking that had led to my wasting my life.

Wrote that as “wasting my light” the first time. Paging Doctor Freud.

I have so much I could do in this world if I didn’t have this albatross of depression hanging around my neck, weighing me down, holding me in place.

Maybe my claustrophobia is just a conscious expression of the feelings of being imprisoned I dare not face.

They could destroy me.

C. “…because of cowardice, laziness, self-doubt, or just plain stupidity, the individual evades the challenge rather than facing up to it… ”

Um, harsh much? So what, I’m just too stupid to be sane? Ever occur to you that some challenges, like say being raped as a toddler, are simply more than anyone can handle? Especially all by themselves , without the ability to even come close to be able to put what happened into words let alone have anyone to tell them to?

I mean Jesus Christ, Jung, have a freaking heart.

D. “…defense mechanisms to force the problem out of conscious awareness…”

Yup, that’s what it does. What else can you do if a problem is too much for you to handle? Just lay down and die? You have to push it aside to be able to deal with reality and get on with life.

It’s a terrible long term strategy but what can you expect? I was four.

E. “,,,compulsive action to keep oneself distracted…”

Like playing video games. For instance.

F. Anxiety states as expressions of subconscious pain

That makes sense to me. No matter how good a job the metaconscious mind does at making the trauma disappear, the emotions are still there in the mind waiting to be expressed, and if they can’t be expressed consciously, they leak out subconsciously.

G. “…atrophied collective adaptation…”

That’s me. all right. I never adapted to the collective. Instead, I remained my own fiery little ball of individualism no matter the cost.

It would have taken a truly extraordinary educator to crack my shell and get me to slow down and listen and try to fit in.

Fuck fitting in. How about YOU motherfuckers adapt to ME?

As you can see, nothing has changed.

---

The brightest of lights…

…casts the darkest of shadow.

I ask myself, why was I so determined to be self-determined? What made me so stubborn as to refuse to conform to anything ever, in effect? Why did I not feel the sam pressures to be liked and fit in as everyone else?

Lack of kindergarten, for starters. Without that golden time to socialize in a low pressure, low stress environment, I did not get the very foundational social education that all the other kids did.

Who knows, I might have started to figure this shit out.

But maybe not, because there’s that other alienating factor, the one that has dominated my entire life, and that’s my intelligence.

Maybe I would have been just as alienated in kindergarten. Maybe the things the other kids did would have been even less appealing to me. Maybe I still would have gotten along better with adults, whom I could dazzle and charm, than with kids my age.

See, there’s a definite causal link between my high IQ and my defiant stance. Truth is, I just had the same drive toward individuality as any kid – but with the high IQ that made me impossible to truly discipline.

I had no fear of authority. Grownups couldn’t make me conform or comply by force, either emotional or intellectual. I was naturally a sarcastic little smartass.

I was superbly equipped to completely resist the forces of social education.

The teachers and I were just lucky that I was a naturally cooperative kid. If someone asked me to do something and I could, odds are I would do it. My childhood before school had raised me like that.

So I wasn’t a brat at all. Sure, I neither recognized nor respected adults’ inherent authority over me – that would have been absurd.

But for the most part I did what I was supposed to do. After all, the school work was incredibly easy for me, so why not do it? It at least provided some mild relief from the oppressive boredom of my childhood.

And on paper it made adults happy. And I wanted them to be happy with me.

Deep down, I am very much a people pleaser. When you are as empathic as I am, it’s very simple : making others happy makes me happy because I feel what they feel.

So to loop back in the general direction of the question, I think I was no more stubborn and defiant than the average kid.

The problem was that unlike the other kids, I had nobody who could make me fall in line and that means I lost out on a hell of a lot of social education.

There’s a reason it takes eighteen years to become an adult. A lot of what you will learn in school besides the academics requires you to be subjected to a structure which you then internalize as you grow up.

I could defy that structure any time I wanted and get away with it. To me it wasn’t even really there. I saw it apply to other kids but it never touched me.

And I missed out on one hell of a lot because of it.

In summary, I was just plain too smart for my own good.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.

That’s the good news.

The bad news is that I was very ill yesterday and I am by no means out of the proverbial woods today, either.

It was bad enough before and during Blogging Period Part 1 (of 1). Like I said, I hs the usual headache, nausea, and dizziness.

But after that it got much, much worse. I became very weak – as in, can’t get out of bed weak. I had that deathly feeling I get when my body is fighting some particularly nasty bug and is having to throw everything it has at it. I had aches and pains all through my body. And my nausea got so much worse than eating became absolutely impossible.

Which is a real prick of a double whammy, because it deprives you of nutrients just when you need them the most.

As a result, I did not have lunch, supper, OR my midnight snack. That’s three meals in a row missed and I shouldn’t even be missing one.

Luckily I seem to be on the mend today. Getting lots of hydration helped. I can only assume I had a fever, not being in possession of a thermometer, but I felt quite warm. And that, of course, leads to sweating and sweating leads to dehydration.

So yesterday was a day of lots of drinking and peeing.

The peeing is somewhat problematic because right now my toilet does not flush. When the realtor was here re : the flood, he saw that the toilet was in rough shape and said he’d send a plumber.

The next day, this twit shows up, barely seems to speak English, and stayed long enough for us to painfully get the concept “the toilet is the problem” across to him, then shut off the water to the toilet and fucked off, saying he would be back tomorrow.

Nope. Nor the day after. Today, he at least had the courtesy to call and tell us he wouldn’t be making it today either because he’s “busy”.

Supposedly he will be here tomorrow. I have my doubts.

See, I have this incredibly cynical theory that landlords hire people as “handymen” whose entire REAL job is to show up at tenant’s apartments and act like they are about to do something but not today.

That way, the tenant shuts up for a while. And if the landlord is lucky, this “handyman” gives people the runaround for long enough that the tenants either learn to live with the problem or pay for the repairs themselves.

So if he does show up tomorrow, my guess is that he will suddenly realize he doesn’t have the tool or part he needs and then disappear again.

Oh well, at least loyal reader Spuug was able to put my new graphics card in. Woohoo!

And WOW does No Man’s Sky look better. Suddenly the landscapes are far more lushly detailed. It’s quite dramatic and I love it.

Next stop, Elden Ring. Everybody and their dog’s best friend loves the game and I want in. And now I have a computer that can actually play it.

Being the latest hotness, it ain’t cheap. $80. But I have $60 in my Steam Wallet so in a sense it will only be $20 for me.

At least, that’s what I am telling myself.

Overall, it’s been a heck of a week. So to compensate both emotionally (for the sadness) and physically (for the three skipped meals (!)), I am going to order myself some kind of honking huge meal tonight.

I am thinking lasagna from Pizza Hut.

More after the break.

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Don’t tell Garfield!

I forgot, Pizza Hut doesn’t do lasagna any more. Hasn’t in a long time.

Which makes me a little sad. I miss actual Italian restaurants.

I ended up getting my usual Meaty Marinara pasta instead. It’s meaty and hearty and has cheese baked on top. So it’s kinda like lasagna.

Point is, I wanted a substantial meal and this fits the bill. If I am still hungry after this, I am going to have to get myself tested for tapeworm.

Obviously, I feel a lot better now. I am not quite back to normal but I feel reasonably okay. Still feel a little weak and a little tired but the worst seems to be over.

Dunno WTF that WAS, naturally. That’s just how it goes chez moi. Mysterious illnesses that last around 24 hours then disappear.

And they all have similar enough symptoms that it makes me wonder if there’s just the one infection that my immune system can subdue, given time, but not eliminate.

Anything is possible in the world of the immuno-compromised.

Played some more No Man’s Sky. Things are getting all Arthur C. Clarke mystical. Giant AIs of incomprehensible power and intelligence. Ancient and mysterious technologies. Stepping into the unknown as an act of faith.

Ya know. That kind of thing.

And I don’t hate that kind of thing but I’m not fond. Ever since I read the second Rendezvous with Rama book and had the sudden realization that a) this was mystic mumbo jumbo dressed up as science fiction, and b) because the aliens were incomprehensible we were never going to actually learn anything about them, I have been wary of that area of science fiction.

That Rama book really pissed me off. I felt like Clarke had led me to think we were building up to some kind of massive revelation, but he was just stringing me along.

I want mega powerful hyper intelligent aliens that follow some understandable set of rules, even if said rules are not revealed to the reader.

Otherwise it tends to fall into a pit of false transcendence where there’s a lot of stuff that seems deep but there’s no real substance to them.

Hence why so many alien races seem awfully fond of the Platonic solids. Pyramids, cubes, spheres, and so on.

That massive hummiung dodecahedron might seem impressive, but come on.

It’s just a d20!

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.

Well I’m all kinds of fucked up right now

The usual suspects are here : nausea, headache, dizziness. And the fun part is I woke up feeling this way.

How come I never wake up feeling good?

The best I cam hope for is those golden moments when I wake up feeling somewhat rested or not too miserable in particular

Dare to dream.

Did the therapy thing today, Told him about recent liberation from my burden of shame, which I would describe as “ongoing”.

Like I said before, they key to it all is anger. Anger is the perfectly appropriate and proportional response to realizing you got royally fucked in the Which Family Will You Be Born To lottery and for your entire childhood you were abused in the most cruel and callous ways by people who were supposed to love and support and cherish but treated me like something they scraped off their shoe instead.

I wonder if they ever really loved me. Oh, they say that they do, but they are hardly going to say “Not really. You were gross and weird and embarrassing,. We all kind of hoped you’d get hit by a bus. ” are they?

That would mean admitting having done something that sounds sort of wrong, for some reason, and there is no way I warranted even a half second of feeling and looking bad.

They were ruthlessly scrupulous in their appointed task of making sure absolutely no resources – love, attention, investment, forgiveness, anything – went to me.

After all, if it went from them, they would then have less, and that’s clearly nonsense.

I mean, basic logic dictates that any resources diverted from worthwhile people (like them) to a worse than worthless person (like me) is the worst kind of profligate waste.

Might as well be shredding hundred dollar bills in the garburator.

And I had none of the social instincts to recognize this as abuse. All childhoods are normal till you meet other kids, after all, and this punitive and neglectful childhood was perfectly normal to me.

Which was convenient to them because it meant they’d get away with it.

And that’s all that matters, right?

It let them never have to deal with the unspeakable horror if having to figure out how to split things four ways in stead of just three,

What errant nonsense! That would mean they got less, and that’s clearly unthinkable.

And they didn’t have to. There was nobody forcing them to treat me kindly.

So they didn’t. QED, Duh.

I mean come on. I was gross and weird and so smart it made them feel bad about themselves, and nobody could love a kid like that, right?

There was two paths they could have chosen – a) find it in their hearts to sacrifice a third or so of what they had out of love for their weird and wonderful kid/little brother, or b) treat me like shit and give me less than nothing.

They chose B.

They were too selfish to give me absolutely anything of theirs. Why give iup anything for a little brother who was never invited to the family in the first place?

No mercy for gatecrashers, I guess.

More after the break.

---

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Um, that’s all for now due to illness. Sorry,

((BULLETIN : Sorry there was no blog entry yesterday, folks, but my computer spent most of the day up on blocks. So to speak.))

God, did I need to hear that.

Here’s my notes :

It’s not my fault they didn’t love me, it had nothing to do with me.

My mother emotionally abandoning me was not my fault.

The bullying was not my fault.

I am worthy just for being me.

Stop abandoning myself. I don’t deserve it.

Treat myself like I am worth something until I believe it.

Every word of that is therapeutic dynamite to me. It’s all so simple and yet the effect on my undeserved and unproductive burden of shame has be nothing short of electric.

It’s by no means gone yet. But I have the tools I need to cut it loose.

Because I didn’t deserve any of the bad shit that happened to me as a kid. I did nothing wrong. It was the people who were supposed to love and care for me who should burn with shame for all eternity for the callous and ignorant way they treated a child who was clearly in trouble and desperately needed their help but they just could not be bothered.

Why? Because they thought I was pathetic and gross, for one.

And yes, I am definitely including my entire family in this circle of Hell. Including my mother, who in some ways is the most culpable of all because she was the grownup in the situation who could have intervened on my behalf in oh so many ways but didn’t do a god damned thing because I didn’t count in her world, either.

The last thing anyone in my family wanted to hear, especially her, was anything that meant they had to creakily and reluctantly get up off their asses and actually spend literally any amount of time, energy, or money on me.

Because I wasn’t even supposed to exist.

Well I didn’t ask to be born and it’s not my fault I was unplanned. I deserved every bit of all the love, attention, affection, investment, and consideration that my three older siblings got but every older person in my life failed me utterly and gave me the sharp and distinct impression that they wished I’d just go fuck off and die.

No wonder I have been so suicidal in the past. I was just trying to do what I thought everyone wanted me to do.

I am the victim of massive injustice on a truly epic scale. And the worst of their crimes is that they made me complicit in the whole thing by raising me to be grateful for absolutely anything I got (because I of course deserved absolutely nothing) and to never ever ever ask for anything ever because that would just remind them that I still existed and they hated that.

I mean, I shouldn’t ever have been born so it was bad enough they were stuck feeding and housing my worthless self. But to have the gall to want MORE?

https://youtu.be/7tOkpntQtBM?t=50

I spent my whole childhood in that cringing, fawning, hand-wringing position.

“Thank you for kicking me in the head, sir. It’s more than I deserve and I know it. I will go back to the basement and lick some mold off the bricks then, shall I?”

Fuck that. That’s far from who I really am. I am a creature of fiery defiance. I am he who would spit in Satan’s face and tell me, quite sincerely, to go to Hell.

But not my Hell. That’s private.

I think I’ve gone so long without truly facing the truth of my childhood because I knew that if I did, I would have to get incredibly angry, and I was scared of that.

Well I am pissed off now. And I am going to stay that way for a while.

I got nothing but shit my entire childhood and I didn’t deserve any of it.

And I definitely did nothing to deserve what the occupant of the lowest level of my Inferno did to me : he raped me.

Nobody deserves that.

Not even him.

More after the break.

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The floor is mean

So I got up to go get some food from the kitchen and I got as far as the door to my room when two massive attacks of dizziness hit me, causing the floor to smack me on the top of the head twice.

Subjectively speaking, that is.

That level of dizziness scares me, because it’s not just feeling woozy or being a tad off kilter or whatever.

I was violently dizzy. Those blows to the head knocked first to my knees and then all the way to the floor.

That’s when I knew I was in trouble.

Trouble that turned my trip to the kitchen and back an adventure.

Parenthetically, I know I probably should have just headed back into my room and skipped the kitchen trip but I was not sure if I had any water on hand back here in front of Mister Computer so getting a can of something fizzy was vitally important.

Because I knew what the problem was. There is only one circumstance in which I get super dizzy these days and that’s when I am dehydrated.

And it’s not hard to see how I got there because when I woke up from a nap I discovered that my room was SUPER HOT.,

So I presumably sweated till I ran out of moisture.

When I managed to get back to Command Central here, I sat down in the chair, thinking I was home free.

Only to find I was too dizzy to type.

So I grabbed my can of fizzy lemonade, got into bed, and stuck my head in a fan. ^[1]

It felt wonderful. So I sat there for about twenty minutes, sipping my precious source of hydration and glorying in the blessed coolness of the fan.

That got me cooled off enough to come type to you lovely people.

Just another adventure in the humdrum life of a broken down sickie like me.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.