The next one is more involved and has comments about my style of writing, which will be harder to deal with. Again, the story and characters were enjoyable, but some of the things they suggested in their summary just aren't me or my way. I think they input some of the changes they were suggesting into the file I sent them. I guess we'll see. I put it aside for later.
So I got ready to head out and get my beer, to fortify me...and suddenly felt a low blood sugar moment coming on. I was going to have BBQ, for lunch; instead I made a quick tuna fish sandwich and kicked back to let the moment pass.
Problem is, those moments wreck me. I feel weak and very tired, afterwards, so took a nap and woke up with a headache. Still wanted to get the beer but it took me half an hour to talk myself into getting going. Then I kept running into red lights and slow cars and bicyclists crossing the road just ahead of me, without concern that I might hit them, so I shifted to a nearby Tops instead of Wegman's, thinking I could get Shiner there.
I wound up in the one fucking store in Buffalo that did not carry beer. At all. None.
By this point, I'm crashing into a depression and thinking the fates are telling me not to do it, so I went to a Pie-O-Mine and got a single pizza and small salad, for dinner. Ate half of each, then came home. And the fucking salad made me sick. And I know without question it was the salad, believe me. I had to throw it out.
Now I'm still fighting off that fucking headache and wary of ever going out in the real world, ever again. There's a liquor store diagonal across the street from my building so I may get a bottle of wine, there. I already know they don't have Shiner Bock, nor does the Corner Store behind them. Or maybe I stick with lots of DPZ and hot tea. Like a prissy old man. I dunno.
I just fucking hate getting old.
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