Should have taken a sleeping pill ... the tire is low but not flat, I think I can drive it to nearby Les Schaub for check and refill.. No Aaa.
We arranged the morning so I cd stay here and address a stressful financial matter thatH was handling online .. need to check it out and see if I need to do something before the 1st and she left me no useful info , so I need to find record, make phone call, see what is what. Maybe everything is fine. Maybe the shit is soon to hit the fan.
(Censored. Just deleted a passage. I belong to the inside-out school of writing, always trying to write my personal truth. I am baffled when someone tells me I am private when my entire bin of dirty laundry is in the public domain, in my work. For example, in my drinking days, I once shit myself in a white tuxedo on opening night of my play. I managed to escape before anyone noticed (except smell ha ha), so easily could have hidden it - which I did for a few years. But it's actually a significant event, so I ended up writing about it because that's what writers do. No bullshit. In my play about Moliere, I put words in his mouth based on this. In my memory blog The Years, I deal with it explicitly. Don't tell me I am "private" ... what I don't do is sit around in a circle with other folks, talking about it. I publish it for the entire world to see. I digress. I censored myself, which I saw coming on, because this is not the time ir place to express personal truths involving certain things. And I hate censoring myself! I'll make up for it later.)
Man, a low tire, not a flat, has raised my spirits. I'll take what I can get.
We arranged the morning so I cd stay here and address a stressful financial matter thatH was handling online .. need to check it out and see if I need to do something before the 1st and she left me no useful info , so I need to find record, make phone call, see what is what. Maybe everything is fine. Maybe the shit is soon to hit the fan.
(Censored. Just deleted a passage. I belong to the inside-out school of writing, always trying to write my personal truth. I am baffled when someone tells me I am private when my entire bin of dirty laundry is in the public domain, in my work. For example, in my drinking days, I once shit myself in a white tuxedo on opening night of my play. I managed to escape before anyone noticed (except smell ha ha), so easily could have hidden it - which I did for a few years. But it's actually a significant event, so I ended up writing about it because that's what writers do. No bullshit. In my play about Moliere, I put words in his mouth based on this. In my memory blog The Years, I deal with it explicitly. Don't tell me I am "private" ... what I don't do is sit around in a circle with other folks, talking about it. I publish it for the entire world to see. I digress. I censored myself, which I saw coming on, because this is not the time ir place to express personal truths involving certain things. And I hate censoring myself! I'll make up for it later.)
Man, a low tire, not a flat, has raised my spirits. I'll take what I can get.
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