Taurus 15° (May 5)
Trying to make the bunker less suicidal but it isn’t easy. I am going to check out the local market which turns out not to be opening until tomorrow and lo and behold English Billy and Raina are there. Fran is somewhere lurking in the back. I take the opportunity to go next door to check out the adjacent restaurant which looks decent actually. I think I’ll go there for early dinner. They open at three if you can believe it. I need to get my printer connected it is wearing on me; and then like magic EL phones to ask if my printer is working. Isn’t that weird? Spent the day texting back and forth (well back or forth anyway) with the one person in the world with hom I never in a million years would have expected to have this level of conversation. I am so ill. Too ill to cook. Not to ill to hop in car and be fed and still unaware of the full import of what I’m feeling. I keep hoping its very bad allergies and the bunker itself is one big sneeze fest so I figure the pain in my lungs upon breathing is due to dust and earth and mold and all of that. Ha ha jokes on me. Anyway I let EL come and program my printer because I’m not doing it and I take him for a burger and soft drink (it’s like babysitting a nephew or something) while I have a lovely crab stuffed shrimp which let’s face it I’m not making at home. In fact I don’t think I’m making anything at home in this place really. I have to think about how to keep things easy. Also this place is one huge ant farm—the tiniest sugar ants you ever did see, nearly invisible. They don’t gross me out although they have managed to get inside two ziplocks I put my honey bottle in. It is now in a glass cased forced tight with an elastic band and still I bet you if I were to open the cupboard they would manage to be in there. I had some ant traps from Wellfleet in the little storage so I am hopefully now murdering a colony or two. Watched a little Jimmy Yang and said good night and had a very fitful sleep, once again.
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