if that isn't a microchip, how did you find me?

Into Season 2 of 'Big Sky's and obviously, I am looking at houses in Montana whilst thinking how utterly bonkers the bonkers people are whilst wondering if - in all of the late 70s and 80s poking and prodding we underwent the US Army did actually pop in a microchip or two, just for kicks. 

And then my mind strays to wondering if I have the stomach for wet work, like what would it push me over the edge into the the sociopathic abyss. Would I buy my bone saws on discount? My plasma cutter at Lidl? Would I be being a functional serial killer, out of necessity and a pervasive sense of moral turpitude or would I be a self- aggrandizing showman, all of the narcissism that pools at the bottom of the ocean of human experience welling together.

Yeah...I need to spend more time outside, but until my immune system rallies and it stops raining, I can't convelasce outdoors.  

After a frustrating round robin with 111 and the GP, I find myself at A&E for blood work and intravenous antibiotics. I've know a colitis outbreak is brewing but other than knowing what you, sometimes you have to let the storm break. I've taken precautions.  Extra pre and probiotics, a decrease in caffeine, trying to avoid too many carbs, eating (mostly) blandly, the usual. But it isn't going to stop the storm from picking up force. At the same time, I have also been eating my feelings in the way of yeasty baked good and that is always a recipe for disaster. 

Add to that cold cycle is on an ongoin loop and all I can do is rest up between reinfection. I mean, the kids are school, masks are no longer mandated (in fact,  only a 3rd of people here are masked) and I go out into the world.  It is irritating and I am cranky and tired once I finally park up near my house. But the rain is thick and fast and I decide the right thing to do is go and collect the littles from piano. 

We get home, I squeeze into the parking space again. I've just run a bath  when phone rings: family friends worried about the great uncle.  He didn't turn up online for virtual bridge and he isn't answering the phone. I saw the three of them Tuesday and he had been coming down with a cold. But it isn't like him to not answer the phone. 

'Of course I 'll go out check on him, ' I say. 'I'll ring you back when I've checked on him.'

I take the kids with me. 'Mum, what do we do if he's dead?'

'Well, feed the cats before we go. We can ask Danielle to feed them in the AM, if we need to stay over with the dogs.' I run through the scenarios, think about the order calls would need to be made.

999 first, then the Bakers? Or the step-daughter? I sigh. I am not ready to think about these things. If he isn't dead, it's a question of getting him a bag packed, finding his medications and...well...yeah, all the usual stuff I am far too adept in doing. I drive carefully, wary of fooding. 

Some days are longer than ever imagine they will be, especially when all you want is to sleep.