I still can’t. I just… can’t. My body cries out in exhaustion. My attention span is shorter than a 70-year-old man who occasionally resides in a big taupe house.
These are dark times. I foolishly stepped on the bathroom scale this morning. It audibly sighed as the needle spun wildly past the marker I had placed as “abandon all hope.” Hope just left town.
I’m trapped here anyway until noon as I await a service call. Windows of time.
And yet. And yet. What would Shatner do?
I can’t. And yet I must.