Hello, world. Welcome to the new week. Our spot in the grasslands is covered with a haze of wildfire smoke. According to the weather forecast, things should be nice enough today. That is, if you don’t count the air itself.
I think I’m over and done with the majority of whatever knocked me on my ass yesterday. Shawshank pumped me full of Powerade using the same schedule I would type up on prescriptions for little kids with stomach bugs: 1 ounce every 30 minutes as tolerated. He dutifully set his phone’s timer and kept the fruit punch flowing while he puttered with chores and laundry. By dinnertime, I was sitting up more than laying down, and he made me a tiny plate of food. I even ate a bowl of cereal.
Shawshank worried about how I would sleep last night after sleeping for half of the day. Thankfully, it wasn’t a problem, and sleep was unable to elude me last night. I fell asleep pretty easily, and woke up around my regular time. It was a bit warm, but it was tolerable. My only complaints revolve around being too warm under the covers, sweating a little, then being too cold if I removed the blanket. I make do by exposing only a little at a time.
Today is Sloth Day. We’re having brunch. Shawshank will go out to drop off some stuff at Shady Acres that we would have normally brought over on last night. I don’t know if we’re going out anywhere else. Since the weather is nice enough, I might assume a human form and take some pics of whatever pants are finished but not listed on Etsy yet. Unfortunately, the little mark on the silver satin pants didn’t come out in the wash; they might go up in the shop at a discount or I’ll try to offload them in a private sale.
