Broken Head

Last night I slept more in total than I have in the past week combined. I don’t remember what I dreamed in these red white and royal blue hotel room walls, but I woke up with orange on the mind, donned my orange hoodie and hiked over to MOCCA to bask in my golden ember walls. Today I learned all about how to get things mounted on foam core. I learned, for example, that foam core comes in black. News to me.

Lunch today was a roti larger than my head. It took me three sittings to finish it, but finish it I did. It entirely reorganized my sinuses, which were discombobulated in the first place. My head cold has progressed to the weepy wacky headache phase, not conducive to eating out in hipster joints. Hipster joints abound in this neck of the west end woods. I hunted down my dinner at the Price Chopper I’ve been hearing so much about out my hotel room window. No great shakes in there, but the prices were indeed chopped. I am enjoying the reclusive living-in-a-hotel-room incommunicado persona, maybe a little too much.

Tomorrow: thirty-one two and one-eighth-inch by two and three-quarter-inch foam core mounted panels meet the laser level. Until then, level headed dreams.
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