Today is shaping up to be a thoroughly stupid day, the sort there’s no sense fighting, and probably that’s the moral of all of this: don’t try. Stop racing against the day. You’ll always lose by a mile. Sink into stupid futility and wallow like a pig in slop. Pigs are smart.
Word count: 4,014.
Chores and errands that should have taken about a third of the time they actually did and should have been relatively non-migraine-inducing but weren’t: all of them.
To the bar.
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