Not much happening tonight; it’s very grey and cold. Hard to be enthusiastic about anything with another of these damn headaches. Maybe it’s a brain tumour. Maybe it’s just stress. All I know is, it’s difficult to think about anything, much less be creative, with these never-ending headaches. I have to see a doctor…sometime.
Virus scanning because my computer, admittedly not new, is in near-total slowdown mode. It’s pissing me off, and I can’t think of anything else to do, since it’s defragged and Nortonized, and is still not happy.
I need to start a new art project. I’ve started plans for doing a tarot deck, thought about a childrens’ book, thought about doing a gorgeous coffee-table book of erotica and short stories. I don’t know…I need to do something. My brain is atrophying.
Think I’ll go downstairs and have a cider…since we don’t have any scotch. Phil got me addicted to scotch and honey on cold nights.