I wonder if I’m the only person in Detroit who still looks when something drives by with a siren on. I’m not sure if that part of growing up in Rural Countryville will ever be adapted out of me. It’s tied in, though, with some inane fear that they’re coming for me and I don’t know it. Not like men-in-white-coats-I’m-nuts kind of coming for me… Like my-house-is-on-fire-and-I’m-not-aware or I’m-seriously-injured-and-having-an-out-of-body-experience kind of coming for me. Strange I guess. Not sure where it came from.

I felt like hell yesterday. When I woke up this morning, there was white stuff on my tonsils. Great.

I went to the store this evening with the intention of buying some essentials. I came home with a case of Slimfast and 6 boxes of cake mix.

I made one of the Angel Food cakes… An hour after finishing it, which mind you was more effort than I had energy, there was a crash in the kitchen. My dog had managed to eat most of the cake before crashing the plate to the floor and making herself known.

That’s my cue to go to sleep.

Oh. And the white stuff on my tonsils is spreading.

The best feeling in the world is realising that there’s no toilet paper… before you actually go.