This building is a scent-free environment. In a small act of rebellion, I put on a single spray of Dolce & Gabanna "The One" and then another spray of "Intenso". Subtle scent is what I'm going for. Someone would have to be very close to smell me. Despite my insensitive nose, I can appreciate how those who have working honkers might dislike walking into a cloud of Italian extracts.

I'm going to the doctor on Monday. My experience in medical billing has taught me much. I have printed out copies of my insurance card and typed out my current medications, symptoms, concerns, and steps I want to take to address them. My knee, for instance, will probably need a referral to a specialist. A leftkneeologist.

Have to make things a simple as possible for the physicians. Elevator pitches for all ailments must be prepared. And try to be as male as possible. Physicians don't listen to women very well.

I am weary. I don't feel bad, just weary. Not tired, just weary. Maybe I feel like a charmander when its tail-fire is low. I'll never know, but I can imagine.

My brother and sister (in-law) are coming into town today. I wonder what we'll do.

Feel like I don't need all these scars anymore. Maybe I should get them removed. Just looked it up; it can be a bit expensive. Even more expensive than a customized PS4 controller. Well, I know which one I'm getting.

It's not a big deal; I've simply grown wary of symbolism. Imbuing meaning into my skin feels inadequate. I'm also over tattoos, although I will touch up my existing ones if needed.

I talked to my pharmacist last night. She's been having a hard time; she said she was carjacked at gunpoint. I expressed sympathy. She also got married at 18. I expressed sympathy about that too.

Pharmacists are interesting because they know all my ailments. Bank tellers see all our money problems. Writers see all the problems they can imagine.

Statistically, I should be average. My concerns should be the average concerns, my aspirations too. Statistically.

A living, breathing, regression to the mean.

Properly primed and ready to make a mess.

White cliffs and white walls. A yellow ball rolls down a wet asphalt street, bumps against the tire of a parked car. No one chases after it.

A blue door with no locks. An ash tray that only holds keys now, and spare change, when there is any.

The fireplace is orange-tinted plastic over a heater. It's not cold enough to use it for heat.

Trees with tear-shaped leaves shimmer in the morning breeze. Standing underneath we can pretend it's raining.

There was some art I wanted to talk about but now I can't find it. It was bright, so bright. Like roses in winter.

Something else, then.

My nephews went to Colorado this morning and I didn't have to take them to school. I still got up a little early and went over to my mom's house. I've gotten used to seeing her every morning. I love that infuriating woman, and for some reason she puts up with me when I'm a grump in the morning. My father is often up as well, so I say hi to him too. Yesterday morning, he asked me if I had any beer. I told him no, and he told me to get some, and make sure it's German. I promised nothing. It seems I'm not the only with dreaming of German beers.

I wonder what Polish beer tastes like.

I need to polish my shoes. I haven't polished them in a week and they're losing their luster. For work, we have a casual dress code. I wear dress shoes, dress pants, and a t-shirt with an animal on it. Shiny shoes are key. I suppose I could keep an emergency button-down shirt and tie. Just in case some other office around here says "You there! You've got an interview in 10 minutes!"

I'll be ready.

My mother spoke to me with great concern about the wildfires in California. She didn't say we had any family specifically in the area of the inferno. General concern, I think.

Protect the self from wildfires, dig a wide moat that the fire cannot cross. Stand ready to stifle any embers that may alight, like roses in the winter.

Summer lingers long here, well into fall, until it breaks like a fever. Today was the first day I didn't turn on the AC as I drove to work this morning.

I reminisced with methinks (she doesn't capitalize her name, remember?) and we decided that she was still she, and I was still me. We likened the blogging days as a Parisian cafe. With Facebook and Twitter, now it's more like a crowded school cafeteria. Which is no knock against cafeterias; more of a comparison of volume, in noise and quantity.

I saw Blade Runner 2049. I liked it a lot. Enough to go see it in IMAX at some point. I never go straight to IMAX; gotta see if the movie is good first. Then I bury myself in it.

Don't really know how I'm feeling today. Sometimes I feel good and am productive, and sometimes I feel bad and I'm still productive. I rearranged some furniture over the weekend; maybe part of my brain is still Tetris-ing furniture.

However, I do have some ideas for some custom floating bookshelves made out of pipe, with a writing desk extension.