I woke up a shade after 7 with The Kinks’ “Apeman” swinging through my head, so who knew what type of butt-clenching merry-go-round of a day lay in store.
The night had left my brain feeling like pizza dough. I sat on the closed toilet doing nothing, staring at nothing; that middle space where nothing exists, probably the same place cats stare at for hours on end, and contemplated the great debate of the hour: tea or coffee. When I got to the kitchen the debate was decided, there was no tea.
A day of narrowing options lie ahead.