And Yet

I'm all dopey, mopey this morning.  Went to bed WAY late for me--after midnight--and slept fitfully until I finally got out of bed to see the damp greyness of a fog-covered morning.  My knee hurts like hell and I have some horrible boil-like growth on my face that is killing me.  Attractive?  Oh, you bet.  I'm the hottest tamale in town.  

The boil-like thing was evident when my nurse was here in the morning.  It got worse.  I put a bandaid over it before my anniversary date came over.  Everything else was fine.  I had to go to the grocery store to get some passionfruit juice for a special Margarita I was to make.  When I got into the car, the a.c. would not come on.  I fell apart then, simply gave up.  Things would be what they would be.  I'm spiraling.  

A night on the boulevard.  An outside table on a busy sidewalk at a Turkish restaurant.  A visit to the dock where we spent midnight 1999/2000.  And then, it was New Year's Eve.  

Dry January is coming.  I may get a head start on it tonight.  I don't have any affection for New Year's Eve celebrations, and I am tired.  I will celebrate alone at home watching "Rifkin's Festival" and drinking hot herbal tea.  I'll start the new year with a consultation on my horrible knee.  I don't know what to do about this thing on my face.  Warm washcloths, I guess.  I don't think I'll eat in 2023.  I may simply fast my way through the year.  I've read that not eating is healthy.  The body isn't really meant to consume food.  I'll be a breatharian.  I'll lock myself in a cell and avoid all external stimulation.  

Heady resolutions. 

Just saying. . . I'm a mess.  I'm not fit for human consumption.  

And yet. . . .