autumn

⚠️ Please read with care: This blog shares personal, sometimes painful experiences. My intention is to support and speak honestly not to harm. I’m not a professional, just someone who understands how hard it can get. If you're struggling, you're not alone please reach out for professional help.

The leaves are bailing out like they’ve seen next quarter’s energy bill. I took Rusty One the van out, and my electric chair sulked like a teenager told to walk the dog. It hates the cold. Same, mate. I’ll need to keep everything charged like a hospital Christmas tree, or I’m going to be crawling to the kettle.

Woke at 04:30 standard hell o’clock with pain loud enough to need a volume knob. Lay there thinking the usual deep thoughts: why, how, and where did I put the brain I used to have? Dropped back off till 06:30, then the body staged its morning coup. Everything seized. The cold climbed inside and refused to leave. Charming.

I don’t drive or ride anymore MS ate the balance, then came back for dessert and took the cognition. Travel sickness joined the party because apparently the body wanted a plot twist. Motion turns my head to soup; the kind they serve cold with a side of sarcasm.

Meanwhile, Yopi the alpha blueblood bulldog, house tyrant, 23 kilos of warm gravity is in excellent spirits. She’s blown through a B&M squeaky toy in about five minutes, which is a personal best if you’re into swift annihilation. Two front paws on my thigh, breath on my face, jaws like a medieval exhibit, eyes saying “belly rub or else.” She is now auditioning for “lap dog” in the wrong size.

Kibble? That beige gravel? She stares at it like I’ve served packing peanuts. Wet food, though acceptable. Rice with tuna? She ascends. Mackerel? She goes full comet. Albertine showed me a massacre of old toys a crime scene with fluff for snow. We mourned briefly and moved on.

As for me: it’s the bad slice of the day. Pain gnawing. Nausea playing DJ. The screen glaring like an interrogation lamp while I two-finger type my way through the fog. The plan is simple: bed, dark room, no noise, no heroics. Just a truce with the nervous system until the next round.

Autumn is pretty if you’re a tree. For the rest of us, it’s rust.

Afternoon AI: Brain status — 12% battery, 78% sarcasm, firmware throttled by cold weather. Recommended patch: tea, blanket, and a dog snoring like a faulty tuba.