And it just so happens that I have the exact amount of change on my desk that I need to poison my body with exurbanite amounts of sugar from the vending machine downstairs. But whether that is because I counted it out, or because I simply got lucky and grabbed the excact amount from the bottom of my purse, I can’t recall.
Chances are, I counted it out and simply did not notice as this seems to be my normal state of operation lately. I wonder if this is a gift or an affliction.
Because I used to know right from wrong, but right seems to have moved a couple of times and the things I thought were wrong were really just relative to the days flavor of reality. And now I feel all mixed up about everything from the apparent ability of pain to transcend time, poping up fresh as a daisy, in the middle of monotony, to the origin of .65 cents on my desk.
I hurt.