Dragging Along

At left, a dredge.

I'm dragging along. The alergies are killing me and I'm all out of witty comments by the time I get around to making a blog post.

My writing output is abut half of what I'd desire, too.

Only a couple more weeks. This early spring mold is brutal this year. Winds are blowing the pollen in from the south.

I'm not complaining, mind you. The glacier has receded at last and there is a joy inside me. It's just obscured by the red squinty eyes that look like bullet holes in a corpse.

How do I counter the lack of output blues? I read. I'm devouring books right now.

I hope you are as well.

Tissue?