(no subject)

Apparently I was a person with exactly one problem because I seem to have no problems now. Okay, two problems: some of my garage books were ruined by faucet leakage while I was watering the lawn, and Walmart discontinued the only brand of cottage cheese in town that isn't paste. But these aren't problems. It would be grotesque to say I miss how things were, but the wedge shaped mass I made of myself propping the door against invading monsters is proving hard to uncongeal. I don't miss that function, but I do miss functioning. I'm not doing it yet in civilian life.

The creaky wheel Ben turns in Lost is proving as useful an image as Woody Allen's match point. Maybe I need to move my island. The only place I have both ability and reason to go is Vancouver, but maybe that would do.