Four laps this morning. Gave up when the track became too crowded for my composure. Anxieties drove me away. That and the lack of will power.
I notice that none of us here at home actually do much. Video games, downloading, binge-watching: Nothing you'd call productive. Weekend radio consists of reruns. Tomorrow's expected to be a domestic terrorist rampage. But today, as far as I can tell, has been fairly quiet.
The landlord's outside my door, talking to Bat. They're talking about me for some reason but I can't hear what's being said. They think that I'm asleep, thankfully. I've paused a movie, responded to Dre's text, and tried to come up with an entry for the blog.
Grocery run planned for tomorrow. We'll have to keep an eye out for maskless terrorists. Having something to be wary-of makes me weary. I'd prefer to cancel.
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