Two Days Without Computer

The cat had his goop wiped. He has aged considerably. Sandwich queen: brie, fig spread, apples, provolone on toasted multi-grain. Sewn bind-offs are a bitch. I am almost done knitting a birthday present I began in April. The piles are smaller and have moved elsewhere. The journal and I have made eye contact. You know what the sign announcing just placed rat poison means: you'll probably see a large rat. I heard Brad Pitt pronounce Nazi like Knatzi. Three drawers were wiped clean and reorganized. I rode my bike in the rain. My dog Honey died. She had been my sister's. I saw someone I hadn't seen in a while. He reminded me that I used to teach. Some people are so tall. I took a wrong turn and went the wrong way. I wish I could do Saturday all over again because there are at least ten people I could sit and talk to all day. It's like there's never enough fucking time. Will I ever know if I'm a Bourbon or Scotch person? I think bartenders take me for a Bourbon person. Tomatoes are best in August. I have seventeen mosquito bites.