Chop Chop Chop

I get my hour of exercise over and done with early. Twice around the park. Black women singing in my ears.

I spend the rest of the day cutting down the collapsed creeper. It really is a fuck up. No, seriously. I get stuck in. Sam comes out and chop, chop, chops too. It seems daunting. But it’s not. Time consuming? Kind of? Not really, as I had it all done but early afternoon. Well, not cleaned up, it is still lying all over the ground. But it is cut down. Detached. Shit is still everywhere, but it just needs to be cleaned up. Easy. I’ll get to it.

I still got dirt in my hair and scratches on my shins.

That was my Friday.

Bruno seems better. Even if he was determined to lick the blood off my leg.

Time to catch up my blog. And order a few movies on eBay. I lit a fire and burnt the dead bits of the creeper in my fire place.

The scabs from the scratches (from the day the creeper came down) on my forearms feels like braille.