GIBBERING, LITTLE FELLAH, GIBBERING!

My right leg hurts like billy-o and someone hijacked the chair I use during meetings of pipe club. It raises up so that I can see over the display case, instead of not being visible. So I simply didn't bother attending during my lunch break. Sat where I usually sit when eating, near the cabinet with all the dead things in it. And as far as I'm concerned, today was the worst damned pipe club meeting ever. It turns out I am neither as socially bendable OR socially engaging as I often pretend to be.

Sometimes I sulk. Enjoy a jolly good a snitfit.

My right leg still hurts like topsy.



On the way home I realized that most people are dense. It's the natural human condition. Neurotypical. It explains a lot. The damned bipeds are defective. No wonder the aliens keep avoiding this planet. They'd prefer a race that happily read textbooks about geology while drinking tea and smoking their pipes, enjoying each others company in relative silence all afternoon, over gibbering social maniacs and any conversation at all about the ballgame.

Apparently we won the game. The local team. Stupendous. The course of human history has been firmly changed, huzzah, rejoice. This was the most significant thing all year.
The pandemic is over, you can all go home now.


It happened while I was smoking the pipe above. Which I calmly finished. Without whooping it up or pouring gatorade over anyone. I always worry when the local team is playing that one or two of the old fossils in the back haven't had their requisite dose of kaopectate, and in the excitement will lose control.

You know what they're filled with most of the time anyhow, don't you?



Dinner: Two stroopwafels, a piece of maple fudge.
Plus coffee, and Amlodipine Besylate.




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