Friday, 10:38 pm...

Blur of a day. Gym, office, home. Out to dinner. Been going non-stop, but it feels like something's missing.

Worked on updating submissions. Lots of research, lots of time. After, put in an hour or so on the new story. 

Haven't been able to feel my way back yet. Wyoming's still there. 

Sat out on the back patio tonight, drinking wine and swatting mosquitos. Where are they coming from? Grass is burned to a crisp, but there's standing water?

Ninety-two year old dude was being crash carted out of Walter's Bistro as we were walking in. Possible stroke. Flank steak was so good, we didn't care.

I swear. I don't have an answer to anything.