These days, a week feels like it lasts six months. Must have to do with the time distortion that got us to this alternative timeline. Maybe it really is six months in old-timey time.

How would we know?

After an exhausting day of technical difficulties, including a DVR that didn’t record a show apparently simply because it didn’t feel like it, I’ve arrived at Friday, probably worse for the wear.

Probably. Who can tell these days? Seriously. Who.

So here we are, the back end of a week of lower where you just don’t want to contemplate what “lowest” might mean. These days are strange days.

I have no words of wisdom for you today. No pithiness, and you know how I love pithiness. We’ve watched the unthinkable become routine, rinse and repeat, ever spiraling down.Yet the days flip through the week like an alarm clock with little boards.

And here we still are.

For now.

For more on my thoughts about Charlottesville and rising bigotry, please read An Open Letter to My Friends of Color.

Check out  my full-length novels: 

Aunty Ida’s Full-Service Mental Institution (by Invitation Only)   

Aunty Ida’s Holey Amazing Sleeping Preparation (Not Doctor Recommended) 

 Her Cousin Much Removed

 The Great Paradox and the Innies and Outies of Time Management.

And download Better Living Through GRAVY and Other Oddities, it’s free!

Peruse Montraps Publishing.