By Walt Whitman
As Adam, early in the morning,
Walking forth from the bower, refresh'd with sleep;
Behold me where I pass—hear my voice—approach,
Touch me—touch the palm of your hand to my Body as I pass;
Be not afraid of my Body.
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My Wednesday was completely unexciting. I had chores to do and didn't get them all done, and in one case I regressed (is there ANY good way to hang up scarves that doesn't take up a lot of space, makes them easily accessible, and stops them from either getting tangled in each other or falling off onto the floor?). I did see two deer and two bunnies while walking in the evening, which always excites me but I think my neighbors think I'm weird when I talk to the animals, even though they talk to their dogs.
Paul made awesome veggie shawarma and Greek potatoes for dinner, which we had with hummus and pita, though that is small consolation for my mourning for The Daily Show and seeing Kingsman reviews warning about homophobic jokes, rampant misogyny, and the killing of animals. Wednesday is the night I watch my two most violent shows, The 100 and The Americans, and neither one of them raised my blood pressure the way those reviews did. Since I am boring today, have some porn!
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