The Gripe

Demons plague me.  I have so much to do, so much to tell, but I am in the clenches of the grip.  Or is it the gripe?  I think it was the Whole Foods food bar where I bought my dinner last night.  I know better than to eat from those open sewers of food, but I have not had time to cook lately and the moniker seems to promise "health."  I am anything but healthy.  It hit me like a train in my sleep.  It may be a virus, though.  Something like this is going around, I think.  If not, it is now.

I must somehow prepare for the day.  It seems impossible, but I know I will.  It is all just misery and humor.

There is much going on in my little town this weekend.  The weather will be perfect.  And tomorrow night is the largest full moon ever.  I'm hoping this is only twenty-four hours of awfulness.  I want to be elegant and beautiful, too, like Cary Grant.

Just my luck.