It's 8 a.m. and I have no idea what I am doing. Upon waking up this morning, I realized (once again, but more completely) the complete pointlessness of my existence. I made some toast, spread some, and then passed the next half an hour staring off into the oblivion of the brackish aquarium that was opposite me (I finally got the damn thing stocked and it looks quite stunning.) When John woke up, I made him some toast, spread some marmalade, and went back to staring. When John finally left, the baking again. I made muffins and cookies and cakes. Then I came to the point where I am now, writing about these . . . completely pointless exercises of my life.
On a bit of the lighter side, I am adding another video. This one is of the a performance at the 1964 Newport Folk Festival and you'll have an easy enough time guessing the song, so I won't bother telling you. Watch and enjoy:
Wasn't that nice? Got my mind off things, and it has a beat nice enough to make someone gorge on snickerdoodle cookies (like I did.) I think tomorrow I will start something new for my life . . . or maybe not. I suppose this mood only comes once in many, many days . . . so I can deal with it. I'll just bake more cookies . . . for these are too good to survive till evening.
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