Saturday, May 7 2022
I could tell as I awoke in the greenhouse that today was going to be rough. I awoke from fever dreams that incorporated the maddening complexities of multi-level marketing schemes, the ones used to deceive boss babes into thinking they're making money, weaving them into a collage that made the world into a vast two-dimensional computer screen full of impossible-to-read labels that could somehow be removed by hand. I'd developed a terrible sore throat, which made swallowing something I tended to procrastinate. I was taking lots of acetaminophen, because otherwise my fever would rise to just under 102 and I would feel terrible.
Recovering from an illness is an incredibly boring process. Days need to pass, and little can be done on those days. When I'd had a enough acetaminophen, I found I could actually enjoy masturbating, which was a definitely a plus, though that possibility was completely exhausted by around 9:00am.
I stayed in contact with Gretchen mostly via Facebook direct messages. She'd tested negative for covid for a second day in a row, so was hopeful she might've dodged a bullet. Because I was in the greenhouse, which is something like a boy-in-the-plastic-bubble setup, complete with a pet door for passing things through, she could bring me things such as smoothies, toast, tea, and noodle bake (she'd made a second one).
I tried to sleep as much as I could, but when I couldn't I watched YouTube videos from anti-MLM producers or software developers talking about how they first got started in the industry. (For some reason I find that interesting, particularly when I need affirmation.)
By now my coughs were producing large plugs of phlegm that were either dark yellow or green. To save on toilet paper, I repurposed a beer can from one of the last two beers I'd drunk (that was yesterday and the day before) just to spit into.
This afternoon for a couple hours, contributing just that much more to my misery, some asshole was down at the bus turnaround blasting away monotonously. Imagine the sociopathy you have to have to drive to someone's neighborhood and maintain this level of obnoxiousness.
The cats Diane and Oscar both visited me briefly, and, though they know how to use the greenhouse pet door, they chose to mostly sit around just outside on the greenhouse's small entrance deck.
The weather has been unseasonably cool for this time of year, and I periodically have to run the greenhouse's electroresistive heater.
How I was looking today in the greenhouse.
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