Unsolicited Advice

Life continues. Kind of. I have a place to go as of this end of this month, although I still have no idea how the fuck to move my stuff during Plague Times. I don't own that much, but I also don't have a car. I am tempted to not bother moving the mattress, but I am very much afraid that if I don't I will literally never manage to own a comfortable bed ever again. Being someone who discombobulates joints on a regular basis, not being in extra pain every time I wake up is kind of important for my quality of life. I could eventually figure out how to replace the futon I use as a topper, but a futon alone is not enough padding -- I've learned the hard way that I can very much feel the hard floor or the hard pipes of a futon frame through one of those things, and it is Not Good for my sleep.  Massachusetts is, as of this writing, continuing with their re-opening plan. We've hit the phase where the dance studio has been cleared for operation, with appropriate procedures.

Stephen Colbert is really mad. It is not easy to push him into being mean. He generally stands for things like 'read more books' and 'get along with each other'. Somewhere in the multiverse, there is a reality where Colbert is a Jesuit scholar. Somewhere else is a timeline where he's the television personality who accidentally won his bid for President. I for one would like to apply for a transfer, right now. Colbert has a reputation. I've started to wonder if people who interview him are contractually obligated to describe him as 'the nicest man on Earth' because they all basically do. When he accidentally acquired an internet army at his old show, he put them to work alternately getting random shit named after him and organizing thousands, if not millions, of dollars for various charitable causes. After testifying before Congress on behalf of immigrant workers, he was asked why he would do that, and stammered before quoting Matthew ('the least of

Durnik's gone.  He started acting oddly yesterday, but perked up and ate his dinner all right. I called and made him an appointment for Thursday, just in case.  Then, around midnight, he took a nosedive. He had never been the slightest bit interested in the windows, but suddenly he decided he needed to rest on the windowsill. He slept there a while, smelling the great outdoors. After a time, he started circulating restlessly between all of his favorite spots, cage and bed and now window, and back to cage and bed and...  They always do that at the end. They're checking all the places they remember being comfortable before, hoping that one of them will feel better. They're trying to get away from whatever is making them feel bad. But they can't. It's inside .  I sat up and helped him move around when it got difficult, and helped him keep his face clean. He never stopped trying to clean his face.  He got chocolate ice cream for breakfast, because that was what I could