Altered reality

It still feels as if sometime Tuesday evening I was sucked into a time/space vortex (or something) and deposited in an alternate reality in which Kamala Harris will be forced next January to certify the re-election of the Tangerine Wankmaggot. I desperately want to get back to what should be my reality (and the world’s) where Harris will be inaugurated on January 20^th and the Wankmaggot will be wearing an orange jumpsuit for the rest of his wretched existence.

I just can’t think about it. I really can’t. I have refused to read, watch or listen to any news at all since Tuesday night.

I can’t put it off forever, but I can for a while. That helps. So do other things.

Never underestimate the calming effect of a walk in the woods with an adorable dog.

Thank you, Dexter for soothing my spirits the Day After.

It also helps to wake up the morning of your birthday (as I did this morning) beside an absolutely lovely man who brings you a cappuccino in bed and then dances around the livingroom with you to the Beatles Birthday song.

Yes, dear readers, for those of you who might have been wondering why I have written relatively little in the past three months, there has been a completely unexpected and quite delightful plot twist in my life. And that is all I am going to say on the subject for now. It is certainly helping to soften the blow of the World’s Worst News.

Happy birthday to me.