What does one do with water?

I’ve said it before and I guess I have to say it again.

I’m really tired.

So so tired.

It’s been a foggy foggy week. Strung out on Aleve and Advil PM and Tylenol (back strain from cleaning my car after the maggots infestation).

And CBD oil.

I love CBD even though I have no idea how it is affecting me. If it has any affect at all. Maybe I am only pretending that it is. But really, what is the difference? Who even cares?

That’s how tired I am. Too tired to care about what is pretend and what is not.

Or maybe too old.

But I think I will pretend that this is not an issue.

Maybe one has the right to pretend that age is not in issue up until one stops aging and then ceases to be.

I’d rather pretend not to think about that.

I’d rather think about the water. I like to think about the water at the perfect temperature. The temperature in which water is best served.

Or think about what I can do to serve water. I mean, what I can do as a servant of water. How I can honor it? What is it that water asks of me?

The obvious answer is to water it. Because even water needs to be watered every once in a while. Nothing grows without water,

But I should probably rethink that because of Hurricane Florence and massive floods and the polar ice caps melting and the sea level rising. You have to factor in these kinds of things.

About The Lost Pedestrian

In my wanderings throughout the moments/days/years, I try in earnest to find the mystical within the mundane and the mundane within the mystical, oftentimes confusing one from the other. I have wandered and roamed through many a city, many a town, in a state of wonder and bewilderment, without necessarily going anywhere. I am easily lost, but eventually found. (I am guessing you have just found me). My sincere hope is that you will find Something in this warehouse of thought, memory and false memory, words, numbers, tangents, murmurs, echoes (lots and lots of echoes), voices, dreams, and other paraphernalia.
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