Wednesday in Austin, Nov. 12

7:56 p.m.

No dry pajamas, and fucking OW.

Yesterday a friend gave me an essential oil blend to soothe and cure eczema. Today my fingers are so broken out I want to scream. It just keeps spreading.

We did our laundry, and because no dryer, hung them out. All my pajamas are still damp so I will be sleeping in my clothes.

I tried to nap twice today and was awakened by all the noise in the house, which chose to happen just as I tried to nap. It was good noise; chairs being put away from last night's house concert (huge success, lots of fun), and then a visitor for Jonnie who cheered her up immeasurably after a hard afternoon with her elderly mom who has what is probably a cancerous lump on her arm but just wants everyone to leave her alone. Much laughter in the back yard just outside my little boudoir. I seethed and itched and made up angry scenarios that haven't happened and tried to squeeze the demons out of my eyes. It didn't work and I finally got up and have been morose ever since, excepting a few minutes of crazy dancing with everyone to trance-rock music, wearing silly hats.

And this keyboard is so grimy I can't stand touching it, so I'll sign off. Adios from Austin, land of Frida Kahlo love and El Dia de los Muertos figurines.