scars

Today I further examined a stain on the left shoulder of my fleece. "Hmm," I had been thinking, "how could I have spilled on my shoulder? I should wash that thing." Well, it's actually the spot where the fleece melted from the friction of the seatbelt. A war wound! I don't think it's noticeable enough that I can't wear it, though.

Lately I've been kind of floating around in a good mood. Part of it is the drugs, but also, with things lining up for next year, my life really is almost as easy as a game of spider solitaire where you get a whole stack before you have to deal.