I just remembered today is Fast Day, not to be confused with Fast Time and Slow Time, which people of younger generations are not familiar with anyway. Fast Day goes slow because I have to start a 15 hour non-eating stint for blood test tomorrow. Now, of course, I can eat through most of the day, but it hangs over my head, this ban on food. It’s not hard to do physically at all; it’s just that knowing you can’t have even a bite of peanut butter is psychologically upsetting. Maybe I’ll get PTS Syndrome.

Fasting is easier on a hot day, but now that it is a damp, cool and cloudy day in the fall, I know I will be thinking of comfort food. I guess I’ll think of it as a cleansing day because I can have all the water I want . . . better not load up with salt before the fast begins or I may bounce into the testing place.

Obviously, I am at nervous loose ends today – writing about the dark and fasting and absolutely refusing to knuckle down and get anything accomplished and compelled to share this condition. You know, quite probably it isn’t the rain or gloom or dark or fasting; I think it is dread of starting the battening down of the hatches chores preparing for winter and the cold air that can sneak in everywhere. (Not to mention raking leaves.)

I will need to use psychological tricks, But I will be manipulating myself – the irony of it is amazing . . . and incredibly amusing to my usual (victims) patrons of the PBC & Roadhouse.

Typing seems to be a lifeline keeping my fingers from window film and double stick tape. Yikes! I’ve got it bad today – the incredible lazies, which I’m certain is a credible medical condition totally out of my control. Yes, that has to be it.

It was dark last night with rain when I got home and it is that way at 7:30 this morning – and I mean dark. When I paused to think for awhile, the computer screen dimmed and hinted at scary movies. But the wind is not howling and the rain is not pelting down; it was splatting down, however,  when I stuck my head out the back vestibule for a can of Diet Sam’s.

Ninety minutes later:

It was unsettling this morning, all that big DARK, so I did the sensible thing. I curled up on the sofa and pulled an afghan over me, including my head because shutting my eyes wasn’t enough. I peeked out a couple of times and it was still very dark and then I dozed. When my eyes popped open and I peeked out again, I found myself in daylight filtered through thick white clouds.

And that brings us to now. But I am still as potentially boring as I was when I talked of Diet Sam’s and the back vestibule.  I have considered that I was so fresh from befuddling sleep when I heard the “splats” of fat raindrops that my brain began to feel like a big splat itself. Whatever. One way or another, I am boring myself again.

I am stopping typing . . . but I think I’ll be back. HAHAHAHHAHAHAHA