I am so tired of death.

Photo copyright Aji, 2018; all rights reserved.

This has been a terrible summer. Not that there's been all that much summer; no rainy season, all drought, all the time, and now we're back to 40s at night, so we had, essentially, six weeks or so of hot weather.  The trees are turning and losing their leaves ridiculously early, and just as ridiculously fast. See those willows?  That's three days ago. That's also end-of-September/early-October colors. You know what?  Today, three days later, they're virtually all gold. That's late October/early November. Except it's early August.

We literally have to worry about the land dying.

And we began this day with the death of another chicken.

I am so tired of death. I am so tired of worrying about my own potential death. I'm tired of pain and fear and unending stress, of not being able to breathe, or being hounded constantly over money and bills, of never having so much as a single second free of pain, and I don't have anything left in me right now.

Links:

• My new Patreon, The Interstices (Writing Between Worlds);
• Wings's site, for sales, with new items posted;
• Wings's direct PayPal link;
• A way to buy me coffee (which actually goes to all of our medical bills, which continue to mount);
• Amazon wishlist, which mostly consists of animal and household stuff;
• Partial registry #1, from Bed, Bath and Beyond. There are new kitchen-y things on it now, stuff that I didn't realize we'd need to replace (either because the RV ruined it or because we gave it away when we had to downsize).

I've got nothing else.

All content, including photos and text, are copyright Aji, 2018; all rights reserved. Nothing herein may used or reproduced in any form without the express written permission of the owner.