So because of all that Friday was a hazy bust. What about Saturday then? I thought for sure I’d do a milk run, but I just didn’t. It wasn’t like I was all that productive in some other way. I just recovered slowly. Got my head pulled from darkness and back in the game. I laundered bathmats. Shaved and laundered myself. Even cooked, and so laundered dishes.

The three riders of the hot water wave storm.

There were other sa-pozed-ta’s that fell back. This wrongheaded landlord thinks the weeds are a problem, and worse, that they’re my job. Legally I’m quite sure he’s wrong. But that won’t stop him from causing misery, any more than it will stop the stupid dog next door from doing the same by barking at nothing.

The two banes of the delightful place I pay too much for.

Still, the very best deliciousness is that work is slowly beginning to fall into a mebbe-should-kinda-sometime category just like yardwork.

May. Things get squared. The domains and the external drives. The mailbrowser checklists and the budget and relationship ones too.

June. Bang out some water pipes for the northern white elephant, and take the first cert test ever because I know it backwards and front.

July. A naturopath visit for improved health, and a mountain trip for the first wedding of the next generation.

The one true meaningful purpose of life.