This has nothing to do with anything except I really do feel this way. I’m having to put together a resource so that if that stupid fucking Covid-19 virus bullshit shuts down the physical campus we won’t all be stuck with nothing to do. So for fuck sake, wash your damn hands, use tissues when you sneeze, cough into your elbow, and if you’re running a fucking fever just keep your plague ridden ass at home.
But I digress, as usual.
This Saturday is the 8th anniversary of my father’s passing. He died of a wicked nasty form of cancer that no one researches because too few people die from it. It was super painful and there was no hope of recovery but it doesn’t involve tits and tons of people so, eh, fuck you.
Anyway, I’m mostly just fine with the anniversary. We knew he was going to die so we had a little time to prepare. And it’s been awhile. I still miss him sometimes but it’s not the sharp, stabby kind of pain anymore.
At any rate, Lancelot and I are taking Mom out for dinner Saturday mostly because it seems like the good kid thing to do. And I am nothing if not the good kid.