It’s gray, I think. I’m not entirely sure. My arm still hurts, in fact it woke me this morning.

Small price to pay to ward off a deadly virus.

I did some yoga and it seemed to help, and now I’m trying to come to terms with it being December already.

December.

This year was little more than a blur, compressed into a single blob of time. Some moments felt so long, and then others came and went without much notice.

More so than other years, I think, with the pandemic seemingly stretching into eternity, with all the issues with my mom.

So it goes.

And so do I, on this Wednesday. Have a wonderful day.

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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.
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