Six more and it would be a 48 pack.

.
.
Nah, I think I'm about to go down.  Nothing fancy.  I'm not hurting or grumpy.  A little numb, perhaps.  Less numb than without the game, though.  I was drifting between wakefulness and sleep, never finding either.  Now I am much more, comparatively, awake.  And when I sleep, there is no doubt.  I get slapped so hard into the dirt I don't see the shadow of the hand, forget about the hand itself.  I'd actually like to make it a few more hours.  That should be possible.  If I was still talking to my docs, they'd be telling me not only should I not do this, but that I can't do it.  They know my diagnosis better than I.  But they don't know... hmm... much.

I am hoping to get to town soon.  A bit of shopping... sides for with the duck... regular perishables...  I have everything I need if I absolutely can't get to town.  But this food isn't bought to enjoy.  It merely allows one to bid time until a better solution avails itself, or is scratched out.  Still, worst come to pass, it will do.  And it will do for quite some time.

I thought about using beer, again.  But it had no affect.  Yeah, as fast as I drank that six pack, I didn't get a very quick light buzz.  Two beers, for me, is less than half a beer for most men, though, for perspective.  Three beers is about a beer, me  to a standard man.  Just size, mostly.  Which means, most of the last few years, I usually really only have a "beer".  I don't even always finish "it".  Still, it really didn't get me down.  Tasted good though.  Which is part of why I drink the stuff.  Better than soda.  Actually, I think of it as the proper means by which men should consume wheat.  Pasta isn't bad, it just doesn't bite back.

Hmm, no, maybe not three more.  Yeah, I think I'm heading in.  Still, I'm up fairly late into the afternoon.  Good night.