Head pounding, eye's watering, coffee tastes bad, running low on V-8. Dunno how much more rest and relaxation i can take. Worst part of four days off is no real writing accomplished. Irony is settling in, making itself some tea and smirking. Irony's gonna get backhanded.
Just when it seemed God was telling me that my mission, my purpose, my occupation in life was to love people the way that Jesus loves me, the way that Jesus loves them: unconditionally and all the time; He goes and quarantines me for four days. Something in all this i ain't getting. And i don't think it's just the snot interfering with reception.
Alright God, you lead me into this desert, guess there ain't much to do but wait for the explanation. Sure hope it comes soon, i'm out of tomato soup.
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