Strange.

.
.
Fed, rested, medicated in all ways, feeling good, with no pain, having just napped, I am crashing.  There is nothing I can do to prevent it.  I have folded two loads of laundry, but that is it until after whatever sleep is required.  I am well set to get to work when I wake.  It will work out.  Maybe work three days in a row is the deal.

Later.

Dames get in my mind, and feed on the chaos.  Or just a song?