Not the top of a house…

I think I have shingles. I developed a really painful rash on my back. Now it seems to be spreading. I don’t know what else that could be. And I have had chicken pox as a kid. Luckily, H has had chicken pox too, which means I can’t give it to him.

Thanks, WebMD.

I’ve been doing work, looking for more work, and watching TV. Kind of a lot of TV. The fall shows are back and the summer shows are drawing to a close. I think the finale of The Strain is on tonight.

Honestly, I don’t want to spend time online as much. Don’t want to read the news. Can’t take all the bullshit commentary and wish Mike Huckabee and Ted Cruz would just crawl into a ditch and stay there with their phones off and their mouths closed.

I did come up with a fantastic short story idea recently. Even better, when I reread the idea a few days later, sober, it still sounded good. I love when that happens. After I’m caught up with work for the month, Imma get on that. It’s about a piano.

I wish I had a piano. Once I have a house, if I ever have a house, I’m gonna get one. They have them free on Craigslist all the time. I’d just have to pay movers to pick it up and bring it to wherever my house is.

I never realized it before, but the similarities between Tom Baker’s Doctor and Peter Capaldi’s are many. Many.

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