November 2020.
No big epiphanies today, just jambalaya with sub par Pacific NW andouie sausage. The first forkfull served only to remind how I miss the hardwood, the smokehouse, the cajun foreplay and my family.
Motivation is in short supply along with the flour I need to make pie. Flour hoarded by f@#& hoarders who probably don't even know how to roll out a good crust. May their holiday stuffing find the grace of good sausage and bathroom pantries overflow with enough Angel Soft to wipe their thankful asses until their hemorrhoids bleed.
All the while, the powers of excuse are building levees of paralysis around my private mud puddle.
Mine.
BLAME THE HOARDERS!
Mine.
BLAME THE HOARDERS!
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