Button It

Blood yesterday was 6.0. This morning, 5.4.

That said, today's had a sombre note. Dad not doing so well as he has been, but mainly - being, as you know, a raging egomaniac - been feeling wildly sorry for myself. Which is what you get when you do comparative mid-week weigh-ins day after day.

Blah, short story short, need to get the Hell over myself and move right along.

On a more positive note, I was trying to find a thing yesterday. Couldn't find it wherever I looked, and figured the last place I'd seen it was in the pocket of the Disappearing Coat (you remember the Disappearing Coat? Picked it up in a retro shop in Notting Hill, and experienced the wonder and the joy of buying 'ordinary' clothes for pretty much the first time in recent memory). I dug around in the closet where I thought the Disappearing Coat was, pulled it out, slipped it on. And then, for some reason, I did it up. I blinked a bit. Wait a minute, it did up...

Then I realised it wasn't the Disappearing Coat. It was the similar coat that I sort of inherited when I got here.

But hold on...

That meant...Hold on...
That meant that the coat I'd been wearing for weeks, buttoning against the occasional cold spell....that was the Disappearing Coat. So somewhere along the line, while I wasn't looking, the Disappearing Coat grew in to me. Or I Disappeared into it, whichever way you prefer to think of it.

That felt good yesterday. But then, a lot of things felt good yesterday. Today, I'm horribly self-revolving and stone-kicking and worm-eating, and so, all in all, I think I should probably just button it...