Brittle Tensions

The sky is blue, the air is “brisk” (5°F, feels like -9°F), and my head is pounding. My broken blog has been fixed…to some extent…but the individual posts are not viewable. The “fixes” cost me several hundred dollars, which I suppose is a reasonable investment, inasmuch as the blog is, essentially, my “hobby.” But I wish I could simply turn the entire project over to someone who would take care of all of the glitches; I am losing my patience to deal with the minutia of managing a blogsite/website. My patience seems to be shattering into a thousand pieces, courtesy of this damn pounding headache. And I worry that the roads on Thursday will remain icy and unsafe as I prepare for my early morning chemotherapy appointment. I am ravenously hungry for something like an apple fritter or biscuits and gravy or hashbrowns  and a couple of rashers of bacon. But if I could fall quickly and deeply asleep, I would, opting for sleep over sustenance. I’m tired of screwing around with blog-related irritations. My tensions are growing more and more brittle. I keep asking myself “what’s the point?” The answer I give is completely unsatisfactory. What I need is a heavy dose—maybe multiple doses—of morphine; something to deaden mental and physical pain. Enough of this ranting. It’s almost a quarter after 8 and I am utterly unproductive and unhappy with my head. Maybe I’ll try an early morning nap, something that might last through the day.