I went through a spurt where I wrote a lot. Sometimes more than once a day. Now my brain seem to have run dry. I am out of rambling nothings to say. Most people will not see that as much of a tragedy. Most people will think that the fact that I am writing less means that there will be less internet pollution. Most people don't read this, anyway.
I think I'm getting sick, too. Like the plague. I might be knock-knock-knocking on heavens door. I don't think I've been near anyone with the plague, or close to any infected rats. So it is beyond me how it happened, unless the person I've locked in my furnace room has connections and someone is secretly giving me infected food so that they can stage a rescue mission to free him from my basement. But really all they would need to do is ask, and I would let him out as long as there was an agreement that he wouldn't hurt me. I'd even let him take some canned vegetables. I'm a nice guy, really. It's just a misunderstanding about him being locked in my furnace room, in the first place.
I need to go lay down.