Damn. I had something interesting to write about that I was thinking about on the way in. It’s gone now. I’m so fried. Thoughts are like peas, rattling around in my head, and if I tilt my head to far to one side, they roll out my ears. I swear I must leave a trail of debris wherever I go, little dried-up thoughts, forgotten on the floor. Hiding with the dust bunnies under the bed. Going wherever lost socks go.