Oh my Lord, Oh Sweet Jesus! Who needs a barometer when you've got tendonitis? I feel like a giant biometric barometric measuring device. The closer the rain gets, the worse the pain is...and I am supposed to concentrate on writing through this physical agony? Isn't the mental agony of Wikipedia enough?
Having to discuss Wikipedia and its slim merits was bad enough, but having to write for it, too? For me, this whole project has been like having to eat big spoonfuls of shit; all the while keeping an open mind about the taste so as to grasp every nuance of the flavor in order to impartially review all of its qualities, both virtuous and vile.
Topping off this mental anguish is the smell-o-gram I am receiving from the compost which I mixed into the soil of my grapefruit tree's pot. (I brought it inside due to the cold snap we are supposed to get tonight). There is a slightly sulfurous smell coming from the decomposition of Heaven knows what...I woke to the smell and the thought that I should pray to Saint Isidore to make it go away. (Okay, what is weirder: The fact that I know St. Isidore is the patron saint of farmers or that I also happen to know that he is my patron saint by virtue of birth? His Feast Day is May 15th, my birthday).
The painkillers are clocking in, so I will be clocking out for now.
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