For those of you playing along at home, I am still ill with some manner of flu. Right now my trachea is on fire, coughing is like a pinch and I can't smell a damned thing. I tested my olfactory capacity by sniffing a few choice items from the laundry pile and my eyes didn't even tear up nor did I wince.
Being of a pessimistic bent with a few kinks towrards being self-destructive I worked eleven hours straight at work on Tuesday. Right now my brain wants to say Monday since it's the first day of the work week considering Labor Day. The last hour earned me $50 bucks, up front, which was immediately wasted on cat litter, cat treats, wet food for the Spottish lass, nine bucks worth of gas, Walgreens brand Chloraseptic leaving me with six bucks in change.
Coming home, I discovered that the laundry room door was locked which kicked off my dusty anxiety machine. Luckily, thanks to vitamins and sunshine, it merely chugged and I was able to get a rational hold on my anxieties. Anxiety stemming from the fact that the rental office may have done a spot-inspection and heaven knows what they're going to say about my place. Usually they send out a letter stating "Hey, we're coming on this day! Be there or not, we don't care!" I have been checking my mail at least once or twice a week in the past month and I'm certain I would've found that amid the numerous supermarket circulars and credit card applications which are dutifully discarded because I don't need to be in debt.
Now I'm coughing, writing up this entry and getting ready to wind down for the night. Reckon I'll call raddidge.
Good night.
When I was in Hartsel, CO with raddidge during my vacation I had a dream that had the same fucking motif.
