Gets all twitchy (and but for what)

I know you've been enjoying "QH blogs about the weather" about two-fold as much as I have been enjoying the weather itself, but I think you've gotten the "lowered temps = lowered expectations" parallel by now. The sleet-dirge played out last night and the excesses of consumption it may or may not have inspired do little to drive this point further home.

But fuck driving points home, how about staying home? Like sleeping on the floor all day listening to like Corrupted and goddam there is still something living in the walls, chewing and scraping. Walking around tapping on corners with a broomstick in your underwear does not a feeling of comfort inspire. Troubled/empty mind. Vague hiccup of the terrible.

Oh, wait. I'm listening to Corrupted right now too.

But all is not peach-rot and cream-curdle here. I was, indeed, lent a guitar in the sleet. Daily practice? Calloused physically for the hermit-winter? Mantras, ragas, and self-repair?

Dinty Moore beef stew?

Denim vests?

An extension of my beard-lease?

Trim'd or grim'd?