I have that squeaky-sinus thing, summer cold, yadda yadda, and it’s making me cranky. The spouse grows weary of my standard litany of plaint.

The aging, freon-scented window unit keeps things bearable in darkened rooms. Cicadas revs up for August.

I have decided to stop giving away good work for free. Let’s call it cranky and angry and be done with it.

I flop down on the unmade bed and lie texting confessional Facebook posts and then deleting them. It bugs me that Facebook makes it a fucking labyrinthine puzzle to figure out how to set my privacy settings so that certain people can see absolutely nothing about me or my life, motherfuckers.

Any minute now my nostril’s gonna squeak again.

Also I’ve wept about four times already today. Woo.

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