On the six

Today marks six years of my captivity, officially.

The first day of this month marked six months in the current incarnation of said captivity.

Ran into an old friend on Saturday, from my earliest days. He has a job he loves and an offer pending that came in out of the blue, and at a higher salary.

Good choice to have. Not a Sophie’s Choice, like I tend to attract.

I was thinking about how happy he looked, as sickness from too much “peopling” washed over me as thick as the dread at the daily peopling I didn’t miss at all Friday and Monday.

And then one of my truly favorite people on this earth paid me a visit.

And then another came in, armed with fresh macarons from Paris for his favorite editor.

It’s probably safe to say today has peaked.

Otherwise, I can’t escape today because I lost my stupid pass to get in and out of Fort Hard Knocks. And I am due for a visit from the fashion police lieutenant.

But I’ll be OK.

At least a couple people have my six, and I have theirs. And today, that is enough.

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