A strange sense of urgency and lackadaisical behaviour has overcome me (lackadaisical in the truest sense of the word). An inability to get everything done stamps a five-fingered sloth into my brain. A centuries worth of motorized airplanes and state feuds over who rules the air(borne virus). A virus escalates the catalyst worm digesting on my thought process. My motor functions stabilize and then meander to a huge gaping hole where my nose used to be. Long patches of sandbars and moonlit shadows cover the tracks left over by the herds of cattle drowning in the deepest darkest chasms of Lake St. Clair. Or perhaps it is Lake Huron I am feeling deep within my ganglionic nervous bones. Whichever it is, come home, please. I miss you, dearly.