And, once again, I slept no more than about four hours.
I sorta (but only sorta) miss the old days when I allowed myself to drone on here about more private and personal matters. Like depression. Because right now, yeah, it's pretty fucking bad. Of course, talking never helps. I know that. But years of therapy have instilled in me a knee-jerk belief to the contrary. Of course talking helps! Why else would people pay therapists? Or have priests? Or...anyway.
Plus, because I am an idiot and an utter masochist, I allowed myself to look at the news today. Because it isn't bad enough that I'm already struggling with my usual background levels of depression, anxiety, dread, and despair. No, I gotta go adding the latest on a zoonotic pandemic, the imminent collapse of Western civilization, the largest global recession since the Great Depression, and lots of fun shit like that. So, whee. That was my day. I didn't write. I didn't prep. I didn't write paleo. I didn't do diddly squat.
Oh, except I logged into GW2 for the first time in three weeks.
I feel as if we have all been sentenced to a very strange and lingering death. That's what I said to Spooky when we were out walking around the building in the twilight (just before I took the photo of the very obliging Leptoglossus phyllopus, below).
I also went with Kathryn to Walgreens and the market today. Did I mention whee? At least most people were wearing their masks, the new pink.
Okay. Enough wallowing. For tonight, at least.
Later Taters,
Aunt Beast
6:23 p.m.