I’ve been doing this so long now that the entries are starting to blur in my mind. I can imagine the tricks it’s playing on your brains, my Dear Readers.

Another cold and foggy day in the Northwest. The fog has been bad the last couple of days and nights. It’s the stagnant cold air and warm atmosphere. Or something like that.

I wanted to plan the three comic panels I hoped to draw this weekend. A small Inner Tirade treat, if you will. Nothing is coming to mind. That’s not surprising. Okay, I spent a little time with a foggy brain and came up with a short script. I will hopefully find some time to put stylus to screen this weekend.

It’s later now, much later. We finished another anime on Crunchyroll and I wanted to get a few more thoughts down before sleep. Actually, I didn’t want to but felt obligated to as I only wrote for 12 minutes before giving up earlier. Doolies is holding Dinosaur, and Tiger has been asleep for some time. The iggies are whining. I don’t usually come into their room this late.

I did have a plan about what to write when I got back here. It’s gone now, the plan. That’s okay. Sometimes writing in silence is better.

After dinner, a tired Dinosaur fell asleep lying face down on my stomach. I was tired and slightly buzzed from Kiddush. He slept in the crook of my arm for quite a while before Doolies came into the room, turned on the light, and started talking loudly. I think she was jealous of how comfortable he looked, or, more likely, how comfortable I looked.

I’m ready for bed after a long day. Work slowed down and left me with too much time to think. It’s sometimes better not to think. That’s not right: I do think at work but it’s thinking to react. When it’s busy all I have time for is to react to what’s happening around me. It’s what I’m good at. Reflection—these painful introspective times in front of blank screens and quiet walls—takes way more effort.

I’ve been recording thoughts for a while. I will have to make a pivot one of these days, find something to do with these thoughts. The words are blurring as I write them. I said that already, didn’t I. Not sure if that’s senility sneaking up on me or exhaustion. Probably a bit of both.

Doolies is waiting for me to go upstairs and bring up the water for Dinosaur’s bottle. Hopefully a good bottle of milk will be enough to send him to a quiet Sleepland for the night.

Tomorrow promises to be another day. Days are good that way with their promises.