I’m having strange feelings, anxiety, tiredness, sadness. I dunno. I’m OK. I am not going to hurt myself. So if I’m tired, going to bed should help with that.

I will have The Talk with J about these feelings and the need for physical intimacy. I’m feeling less and less healthy. It’s a crappy feeling.

This morning, J had to be at work at 0430 AM. I got my kiss good-bye, or something like a kiss, as she departed. I, now awake, started my day. I lacked any enthusiasm,however, frittered away some time ordering my prostate supplement on Amazon.com.

I finally went back to bed, with Kenneth Clark’s Civilisation playing on the DVD machine. I awoke again as Dutch landscape painters and tulip speculators were the subject of Clark’s review.

Resolved to tidying up, I cleaned the upstairs bath, cleaned myself up, then washed and dried the towels, wash cloths and cleaning rags.

I read Shae’s blog post for today and another post from one of her followers on how women perceive their bodies around the whole weight/ sexual attraction cultural mind game thing.

I don’t really feel as if I had enough sleep, during my two sleep intervals, nothing new there. Now I have earned the chance to put my feet up, in my estimation, after my cleaning endeavours. I think another nap is in order. Maybe I will be clear headed enough to write something a bit more intelligent.

About an hour ago, J texted me that she was on her way back from a store call in Williamsburg. I am excited about that. We can go eat, may be at a place that has a weekend brunch.

While she was gone, I slept some, my legs elevated. My lower back hurts, most likely from overexertion. I could sleep some more. But I need to eat first. I believe we should go to Bone Fish Girl. I want to see that sexy black lady with the green highlights in her hair. Asia is the name she uses. It might be her real name, might not. Yesterday we had a server named Chelsea, a very lithe young woman with a boy’s haircut. She was channeling Audrey Hepburn, 1950’s vintage, and masterfully pulling it off.

Note To Self: Stop “falling in love” with servers at restaurants.

When the bolts attaching the gas tank to the vehicle are seized with rust, they must be removed and re-tapped. Hence the fuel pump replacement added even more money to the local economy. Eid, the shop owner, was nice enough to do the safety inspection on J’s car this afternoon, saving us loads of time.

I went swimming tonight after a hiatus that I will attribute to bad attitude more than anything else. I did go. I swam a little over a mile. I feel good emotionally. My arthritic hip is bothering me now, however. Hurts when I put weight on it.

I am watching trains, then going with either cartoons or World War Two documentaries after the Southbound Silver Meteor passes through Ashland. Cartoons, I believe, is the smart choice. Porky Pig is my choice tonight. He is so chubby, pink, and irrepressible.

J has to go to Williamsburg tomorrow to bring more sun tan lotion back.

I’m hungry. Later, folks.

We got the car to the shop. It is the fuel pump. We are replacing it while simultaneously putting $800 into the local economy.

The vehicle will be ready tomorrow. That means I’m not going anywhere tomorrow, which is a blessing, except that means I’m isolating. Not good.

J is almost over whatever ailment she had. On the other hand, I have practically no excess energy.

I feel generally discouraged. But one of my neighbours, also an AA friend, just learned she has lung cancer, which is bad news, but they may have caught it in time. She wants to reconnect in AA, after not going to meetings for a while. She has issues around relationships with people, both men and women, but not sexually related. We shall see how this works out for her.

I just keep plugging, trying to figure out how to connect with my wife, who tries to “deal” with me, responding to what I say. What I don’t tell her is that words come out of my mouth, but I am not saying anything. That all I really want is to feel her naked body next to my naked body and that this naked intimacy is the only time that matters.

We will give that a try.

Sometimes repair issues are unavoidable. I bought my Dad’s car from the estate eight years ago when he passed away at age 90. Since his family called him ‘Junior”, I would now drive Junior’s Car. Well Junior’s Car did fine, up until today when the fuel pump broke after nearly 195,000 miles. I guess it was due.

My. TIMETABLE FOR WORLD DOMINATION has been dealt a setback. I cannot mandate that the world speak only Esperanto by the year 2024, as I had originally planned. The world will have to use other currencies besides Hostess Twinkies and Little Debbie Oatmeal Creme Pies a little bit longer, setting back my currency reform. The riders in The Tour de France will not have to put baseball cards in the spokes of their bikes so they will make a cool noise as soon as I had planned.

Did they design the 1998 Mercury Grand Marquis LS is with an easily accessible fuel pump? We will know tomoorow.

I am awake, have been since 3:30. I ate fruit, oatmeal and a snack size stick of Sargento Cheddar. I have drunk more coffee than I should have. A train is pulling into Ashland, #86 Northbound to Washington and, ultimately, New York.

The exhaustion continues. I do little to ameliorate the condition. I am going back to bed, I think. Very soon.

I need to find a counselor. Who or what kind, I don’t know. I will reach out to friends first

Sleep. Did I say I was going back to bed? Later, folks.