The pain came thundering back today. It hit 10 a few times and wouldn't stamp down to the drugs. Only to trying to ignore it.
I could still laugh and talk to people but it was always around there like young Alex's cop peeking around the corner.

It was my normal day off. It was suggested that I give it up as I had Monday off for Christmas . . . suggested but no one was foolish enough to ask directly.
It was a beautiful day here. Near 64 (17c) and cold sun breaking through every window.
I got to talk to the heat pump repair man. That was fun as I learned a lot . . . but not enough to attempt my own heat pump repairs . . . unless an opportunity arose . . .
I played with my puppy. We worked on heel today.
I talked to my neighbor about his job and his dogs. I talked to my landlord, whom I like, about heat pumps and dogs.
The rain started and the temperature dropped. It wasn't welcome even though it more closely reflected my mood.
My mood: Alone in the cellulose cool blue reality, where reaching out requires effort and voices are always muffled if you don't listen.
The New Year is coming. My only resolution is to refuse to die.
And to finish my stories.
And to make a list of the ten best books and movies I've seen and read this year.
I like lists.
I like the way they compartmentalize hopes and dreams.
I like the way people react and identify or look at with deep mystification.
I like lists.
I like reading others and I like making them.
You've been warned.

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