I am sick. I have managed to pick up a small ounce of some wandering creeping crud. This one is manifest with the requisite: dizziness, lack of energy, scratch throat that enables me to make very fake sounding coughs, and a general lack of focus prohibiting me from accomplishing anything of value.
So, I'm writing a journal entry!
I don't like being laid up. I enjoy my sloth to come naturally of my own creation. When you're actually a victim of a full-on, bona-fide, crud attack... all of a sudden you're allowed to slack.
What this reduces down to is a lack of desire to be dependent on others. Now, please note an interjection (beside, ugh, cough cough)... I like including disclaimers a lot. (Even when I misspell "alot" sic)
Right.. where was I? Oh yes. sic... err sick.
My state of mind of course allows me to ramble moreso than my typically disjointed writing.
I feel like crud.
I was going somewhere with all of this, but when your wonderful jnanacandra balls up in your lap and starts rubbing your achy shoulder and neck while typing. (That would be me typing, not her) you get distracted.
Which returning to the lack of focus makes for an excessively disjointed post.
So... No deep philosophical theories. No organizational rants about ... well, no. No organizational rants. No explanations for my rather spotty posting over the last week. maybe one evil look at the cat as she contemplates spraying the area we just told her not to spray.
All these questions and more may be answered when the missing half of my brain dislodges itself from my sinuses and throat.
Did I mention... Kaff... Kaff. (Yeah, they really sound that fake when I cough)