IT'S SATURDAY, DO YOU KNOW WHERE YOUR FRIDAY WENT?

At around ten thirty last night there were over two hundred page views here, according to my blog stats. It is quite likely that those were all spam bots, as most people at ten thirty on a Friday night -- in my neighborhood, at least -- are thinking of donuts at Bob's on Polk Street between Sacramento and Clay.
Before the crowds get there, peaking between one thirty and three.
Spam bots are, understandably, not into donuts.
Instead they come here.
How sad.

I was asleep by then. That is, I was trying to sleep, but my sore throat kept waking me up. To bed at seven PM, up again by six AM. The concept of donuts was very far from my mind, as swallowing was incredibly painful.


Crullers, old-fashioneds, Long Johns, strawberry frosteds, buttermilks, shishkys, pampushkys, Berliner, dulce de leche benuelos, coconut sprinkles, custard filleds, old fashioneds, Boston creams, bear claws, jelly filleds, maple bars, apple fritters, cake donuts, chocolate glazeds, coffee caramel creameds, Dutchies, glazed blueberry cakes ....


My infection, which had been at a low ebb for a week, got a second wind Thursday night, in consequence of which I had maybe three hours sleep.
I must be getting better, because last night between seven PM and six AM there may have been as much as five or six hours of slumber.

My Friday was spent convulsing from the pain every time I swallowed, and postponing the agony of hacking and spitting as much as possible.

I know where my Friday went. It went somewhere dark and depressing, and altogether nasty, an ante-chamber to hell, a foretaste of the second Trump presidency. It was in several ways apocalyptic.
As was, unfortunately, Saturday.


I shall blame the existence of other people's children for this.
We all know they're little disease vectors, right?
And I have an urge to blame anybody.


No, I shall not have a donut.
Can't even imagine it.

Two more days to my work week before I'm off.
I was off Friday, and should've enjoyed it.
Bad disease vectors! No donut!

Another reason to suspect that last night's readers were spam bots is that the comments they tried to leave involved World of Warcraft, Hispanic females, penis enlargement, and sure-fire real-estate schemes.
I have an intellectual interest in only one of those.

I've never written about any of them.

When I am well again, and can eat, I may consider World of Donuts, Hispanic females frying donuts, donut enlargement, and donut schemes.
Till then I shall whine in an unlovable manner.




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