Aw, come on, she’s just pulling your leg.

So every year around this time I get seasonal allergies something fierce. Making me barely functional during my favorite holiday is probably the Universe’s way of punishing me for something. I dunno. I guess I did spit on all those nuns or whatever. Anyway, point is, in trying to write this one paragraph, I’ve gotten up three times to go blow my nose. I have nothing clever to write here because I have joined the living dead.

Turning into a zombie for the month of October may be appropriate, but it is a not insignificant barrier to getting any shit done. Consider. When was the last time you ever saw the shuffling, slavering hordes actually make anything? I mean, aside from an awful stink. Which I’m sure my unshaven, unkempt, undead ass is certainly producing. And so it is that this post becomes a mobius strip: coming from nowhere, going nowhere, and ending here only because I say it should.

Fuck. Plants.