In Business.

It's 45 and showery here in 27408. Fiercely gray. Sky about ten feet off the ground. It's a day to have a couple of lamps on even though it's the middle of the afternoon. It's a day for toasted PB&J. Soup. Wearing a hat in the house.

I'm taking laps through the rooms. Shoes on, shoes off. Went outside to overseed the lawn, but decided I had to cut it first. Too damp to cut, so there's one project on hold. Other projects also waiting in line: Clean up finances, clean up kitchen, clean up inside of skull.

Tonight I'm on call for a fancy dinner out in 27244. Dress: Business. The only pair of non-jeans pants I own is/are the pants to my seersucker suit, so that thing's going to have to count as business. My defense: Whatever it is you hired me for, it sure as hell wasn't any kind of business at all.

The dog's in the back, sacked out right dead damn on my pillow. She struggles through the gray days.

I keep picking up stacks and piles of things, like whatever it is I might be looking for might be underneath something else.