Ants And Spiders And Roaches

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I may not post much here today, unless something occurs to me later. It’s hard to produce on demand, not even if the demand is more from me than from others. I keep too high a standard (sez he, shamelessly) and I find it hard to be casual about it on a predictable basis. But this is casual, I guess. This is not knowing what I’m going to say or even if I am going to say. I feel very disconnected, though, from old friends and new friends. Not that anything is going on, but just that nothing is going on. No toes have been stepped on, no feelings savaged. As sometimes happens, I just have ants in my pants and spiders in my brain and roaches boiling out of the floor drains.

And, no, I don’t know what I think about how I feel. Just as I often don’t know how I feel about what I think. I think I know and feel quite enough as it is, thank you.

There you go—my irritable serenade for the day.

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THOUGHT FOR THE DAY: "I don't deserve this award, but I have arthritis and I don't deserve that either. -- Jack Benny

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