12:05 a.m.

It's 12:05 a.m. Sunday morning. Wish one of my friends kept the hours I do. Need to talk to someone, but they're all married and asleep or single and have a job and asleep or decent folk who don't stay up half the night pacing the floor like I do.

So it's just me. Me and the keyboard. Me and my computer.

It's been a hard week. My IBD flared. I spent a lot of time in pain and curled up on the floor of my bathroom. I need intending to fix that room up, make it into a fancy bathroom, but don't have the time or money or will to do so. I spent too much time in there as it is.

My unemployment ran out, and I've been waiting to see if I get the emergency extension. Supposedly everyone does. So far, getting that answer, though, has been elusive. We'll find out next week.

Someone asked me what I will do if it doesn't come through. Well, I will continue to look for a job (because that's what I need and watnt to be doing -- working and getting paid) and live off my savings and have a couple of garage sales and maybe sell some stuff online and finish Murder by the Mile so I can sell it and promote Floozy & Other Stories as soon as it's available at Amazon and keep on keeping on. He seemed a bit overwhelmed by my answers. I don't know what he expected me to say. That I'd starve? That I'd break down? That I'd give up?

Well, it's not a lot of fight left in me, but as long as there's some, I'm going to get back up when I'm knocked down. That's how most people do it. That's how we survive as a race. We keep getting back up. And if I do finally go down, by Josephine, it will be in flames with bridges burning and buildings exploding and people running everywhere and rockets overhead. I will at least serve as a example of what not to do if nothing else. By the way, I'm an ankle biter. If someone kicks me when I'm down, they may draw back a stub.

But it's been a hard week. The black dog is nipping at my heels. I use busyness to keep him back, but lately it feels like all my projects are meaningless. No value. What's worse, it's not just that I feel they have no value, I feel I have no value. Hard to beat that one back.

Still, I have a roof over my head. I've got food on my table. I've got clothes, I have a computer, a TV, and a thousand and one conveniences that most of the world does not have. I have been blessed with friends and writing and air to breathe. And while my health isn't good, I still get up each day and can for the most part take care of myself. Many can't say that. Not that knowing other people suffer makes me feel good, but at least I'm not having to carry the burdens they do.

Count your blessings ... I have to do that often these days. Got to keep my head above water, keep splashing around, stay alert for a life preserver, avoid the sharks. Got to remember to read a card that a friend (Thank you, Wendy) sent me a few months back.

It reads: "When I said, 'My foot is slipping,' Your love, O Lord, supported me. When anxiety was great within me, Your consolation brought joy to my soul." Psalm 94:18-19

And she sent this one, too: "Are not five sparrows sold for two pennies? Yet not one of them is forgotten by God. Indeed, the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Don't be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows." Luke 12:6-7

Good words. Wisdom to hold onto. A lifeline to wrap my heart around.

Anyway, it's after midnight, and it's dark in my living room. Only my computer screen gives any light. I should go to bed, but I'll lay awake and relive my past mistakes and I'd rather not do that yet. I have a book to read. Guess I'll do that.
Eventually I will get tired enough, exhausted, and then I'll sleep.

And get up tomorrow to face the sun or the rain or the wind or whatever will come. That's all we can do. Keep on keeping on. And someday we will rise to greet a bright new world.

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