another euthymic Saturday...

...as opposed to a manic Monday, a time when, in the past, in my cycling & recycling, I'd pull Mindstorm out from my slushpile beneath my desk, & remake/remodel. My mania is long gone, I over-sleep from Seroquel, but nonetheless, my work on "Galaxies Controlling Fate" has been undergoing an upsurge in beauty. I didn't have an opportunity yesterday to work on it until after noon, being caught up by the Internet, but once begun, the transmutation was worthy of a chemical philosopher.

Trish caught a ride home with Say Bra, maybe... I don't remember. All I know is that I didn't want her to walk home, as the forecast was for possibly severe thunderstorms.

When she was safely ensconced in our domicile, she told me that this kid at work, a driver, may be getting fired: he apparently called a waitress a "fucking bitch cunt". This is incredibly rude & I hope he gets his ass fried for steakburgers.

Trish performed her requisite cleaning tasks, & I deployed her ant traps. The mighty Insect Slayer strikes again! It seems simply beyond her understanding to realize that there'll always be bugs during the summertime.

I also spent a long time on the phone with Dan Dolph. He was his usual talkative self, but turned down the proffered a/c's, so we're taking them to Sally Ann's. Some poor person will have a real Kool day with these ancient behemoths.

Then we watched TV for a bit, & engaged in BJ. Her blowjobs are real atomic. That is one thing I really love about Trish. The only problem was that we did it without Viagra, which no doubt dropped the orgasm from a gusher into a slime-off. I simply have to get off Risperdal, & fuck Scientology!