Today, I just bought the last appliance for my remodeled condo that I did myself. I have spent years proving that I could do a bang up job as an interior designer thinking I could transition into something I loved. But, it hasn't rained really for years. My investment is on dry land.

I work so hard my customers think its disdain that I am showing them, but I am at full tilt, frantic, in pain.

Everything is thrown at me. One shoulder has torn muscle. The other is separated and formerly torn. I have severe sleep apnea, and five stents. I run 6.8 miles in the hills or at least I did during COVID to try to get in shape for work. I felt like I was going to die. I haven't the imagination to survive. Surviving is unimaginable.

I barely smiled at the Black man sitting in a chair along the freeway entrance. I have no idea how he survives. This next round will put more homeless out there. I didn't think I was going to make my birthday. I still might not. The heart can only take so much disappointment, the earth only so much run-amok species. You practically have to believe in God. I mean what other species has had so much free-run?