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1. Hallo, it’s me. Welcome to another Sunday morning. I think there may have been some rain overnight, as the ground is still wet. For the moment, the skies are bright and sunny. Brian swears that by the time the ground dries, the rain will have moved back in to keep him from mowing.

   Yesterday was another one of those unsettled weather days. A lot of clouds, and the skies opened up while we were in Walmart. We got wet on the way to the truck. In the most Florida way possible, everything was clear at the house, 10 minutes later. I bought a little pleather pinafore dress in the girls’ department. I didn’t plan to buy anything, but I couldn’t resist it. What I should be buying is boxes to mail things north.

   Shawshank‘s having a rough time of it this week, only figuring out the seriousness of things on Friday night. He’d actually had a week of random issues, starting last weekend. However, they were all so unrelated that neither of us thought anything about it. I mean, how often do you have a headache one day, and an upset stomach a day or so later? The weird symptoms he showed were mild enough to disregard on their own. That is, until Friday. Friday, the “adult acne” on his head had spread down onto his forehead and face and looked a lot more serious.

   After 15 years of pharmacy, I know a case of shingles when I see one.

   I suggested he go to the clinic as soon as he could. The clinic in town isn’t open on weekends, and he promised to go in on Monday. I tried to gently suggest going earlier. I mean, as gently as one can without resorting to a capslocked DON’T BE A DIPSHIT YOU CAN GO BLIND. “Take advantage of that socialized medicine”, I told him. Yesterday, he woke up looking and feeling worse. He worked his shift, then his mom drove him to the bigger town 40 minutes away, where they have a little hospital. They confirmed it was shingles and gave him some prescriptions. Moreover, since it’s in his eye, there’s an extra layer of severity to everything. As a precaution, Shawshank’s on his way to the capital as I write, to see a specialist.

   In the immortal words of BossRPh, you only get two eyes, and they don’t grow back. You take that shit seriously.

   I think I’m going to go put some clothes on. I slept in a little this morning, and I’m getting a late start. But alas, it’s time.

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