I am resolved; 'tis but a three years' fast:
The mind shall banquet, though the body pine:
Fat paunches have lean pates, and dainty bits
Make rich the ribs, but bankrupt quite the wits.
Rainy days are days of thought. The air in my geography is thick with pollen from the onset of spring and the rain beats it upon the roadways... paving destruction for careless traffic. It is a day to be home following the droplets as the trail down the pane of your favorite window. My head aches... again. I feel like a patchwork man. Dinner last night was one of my original home-cooked recipes and an All-American favorite: 3 oz. of your favorite and available cheese, a Vicodin, and a few deep tumblers of straight Crown Royal Special Reserve. Henry woke me several times through the night wanting to investigate the property and mark the Liriope. It was enough to slow the clock today in the office in the midst of an already dreary afternoon. My office building is (apparently) testing the new central cooling system recently installed. I borrowed a small space heater from my boss attempting to thaw the icicles displayed around the ceiling.
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