Well, I feel like crawling into a hole today and pulling in the edges after me.

Between the laceration on my knuckle and joints I wasn’t aware I had screaming, I think I’d be ready to hand Charon his coin if he decided to come ’round, if for no other reason than there is the theoretical promise of relief from pain after you cross. Or, at least, you forget why you hurt.

Also, in theory, I’m supposed to hit another chore in my overflowing chore jar. Instead, I’m gonna beg off and weep silently in a corner, rocking back and forth while hugging myself. With Mare of Easttown playing in the background so I can find out who the next likely suspect is in the murder of a young woman. Or, at least a clue who is more likely than those already proposed.

I still think it was the ex-boyfriend, but I’m probably wrong.

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