Doors, lots of doors...

Here is the shotgun view through the bedroom through the bathroom through the laundry room through the living room through to the backyard. Oh, and through the dog door, too. Always going through doors here. And one can do a complete circuit of the little yellow house inside by virtue of the two doors into the bathroom. Now that I have relayed that terribly interesting fact, may I gripe? Yes, Virginia, I do feel better. Also feel pretty weird, which is to say not like my miserable self. That should be a good thing. Working overtime instead to make it more misery. Now, isn't that interesting? It is said that an unexamined life is not worth living. Welcome to my microscopic mind. I went to Target the other day, one of my three favorite destinations, the other two being Costco and WalMart. I was searching for haircoloring, you know, the $8.98 surprise in a box. Tired of being blond in a yellowish tint, so I got lightest ash blond shade. Also some frozen dinners, and a tube of tinted moisturizer, lightest covering possible hoping wrinkles will disappear beneath it. Anyway, I was noticing the people at Target. More affluent clientele than WalMart, it seemed. Most had this truly blank expression on their faces. The most prevalent emotion displayed was confusion. I smiled at everyone coming my way, I do that regularly because it always perks me up when someone does that for me, and I always hope a big grin will lift me out of pitiful mode, but no one that day even looked at me. Now, that is interesting. A whole store full of unexamined lives. After paying, I spent a happy ten minutes searching for my car in the vastness of Target's parking lot. That is the price of feeling good, it seems, a new pall of brain fog. Must work on that today. There are no doors that offer quick fixes, it seems.