this slow trail of slime.
i haven't been to the gym in forever, & i'm starting to get messed up in the head about it. i've been such a wreck-- hungover, stressed out, foot hurt-- that going doesn't make sense. i am purposefully trying to avoid my inclinations, to over-work myself deeper into hurt. so last night was a nice little restful alcove. i went shopping & jenny cooked a roast, which we ate while watching some celebreality television & popping a bottle of white wine. after that, she played on the wii while i read. nothing too dramatic, but rather restful, which is kind of needed with all the whirlwinds going on or just coming to a close. i woke up with a string of numbers in my head (7202365...) & i've just been having these dreams, bodies buried, dug up again, moved, put six feet under, exhumed, over & over. not nightmares, but the dream of work. digging.