Let me do that experiment, where I take out of fancy leather-bound volume and just start writing for writing’s sake. If one is to ever write to make a living or a tenth of a living, one should be writing constantly about everything whenever one feels the whim of an idea coming on. Or, at least, there were these five guidelines to writing that AR had posted on her FB profile espousing what writers should do. So…here goes…

Disclaimer…I’m on Ambien and probably will be for the foreseeable future if I undertake this exercise regularly. I need it to sleep. But I’ll spell poorly, and I won’t remember what I’ve written in the morning.

But I need that, in addition to my CPAP machine, which I just wrote about, but that text has gone missing. Do I have to write about the damn CPAP machine again? I try. Since early July, I’ve tried. Between induction, bad basks, nasal congestion, a lengthy period of shingles, and more nasal congestion, I’ve had a lot of impediments to getting CPAP to work for me. The goal is to get at least 4.0 hours of CPAP sleep, during which you get negligible apnea events. But I have so many failures that my average is about 3.2 If I include nights when I do feel I can fall asleep comfortably-enough with the mask, I may average. Inevitably, I tear off the mask in the middle of the night. So my “compliance” rating is far below the 70% they’re looking I’m around 30% compliant. I’m told insurance could stop paying if I’m not doing well enough on the machine.

But I’ve got bigger words than death from sleep apnea.

Depression and stress and immunosupression drugs all put me at significant risks for heart attack, stroke, diabetes, cancer, etc.

Getting enough sleep isn’t happening.
Exercising isn’t happening. I think the Y is double-billing me for services I’m not using.
Diet isn’t happening. My cutting down on traditional fast food chains is symbolic only for now. All I can eat Whole Foods hot bar isn’t really much healthier..

Quick…other topics…
Zellouisa is top cat, and I hope she’s not losing too much weight due to the presence of Mr. Featherbottom. Mr. F. has put his stamp on the household as the aloof, food-centric kitty that is the mark of 99% of all house cats. I just haven’t had one of his ilk before. I will feed him and clear his waste, and he won’t do a whole lot for me. That seems to be the deal. Oh, well.

I am so desperate to be doing something else with my life. This sentiment is celebrating its 23th anniversary. Where I should I have the party?