crookedfingers

It is 8:59 AM Friday morning here in West Michigan. It is a sunny day this morning. I can hear as I type a white-throated sparrow singing somewhere off in the neighborhood. Carol is out taking a walk as I write. I am too wasted to walk. If I walk around our home I usually find myself out of breath. I am totally out of physical shape. I have let my body fall into disrepair.

I got up this morning around 5:15 AM. I got up way too early, but I was feeling sore all over so I got up to face existence during a world wide plague. It is the first day of May 2020. Maybe during the month of May we will see the plague decrease in deadly power/killing people off like flies. So I got up made a pot of coffee and messed with our main computer. When Carol got up I made for breakfast a pot of oatmeal. After breakfast I wrote in my paper diary and have been basically wandering the house in a daze. I should go back to bed and start this day over again after sleeping a couple of hours.

Last night all I did was read from a novel titled, 'Hotels Of North America' A Novel by Rick Moody. We went to bed around 10:30 PM last night. Now it is a new month in the death flow. There is no way of escape.

There is nothing else to report so I will close to drift. I got out to look at this morning a book titled, 'Right Livelihoods: 3 Novellas' by Rick Moody.