“a cloudy day”
Schrödinger’s cat pays a visit
a cloudy day
doing puzzles
while the cat stretches
I don’t own a cat. I enjoy watching them in other people’s homes, but am very allergic to their dander. On the day I wrote this I was experiencing extreme brain fog, such that the morning puzzles I like to do over coffee made no sense to me; I could barely make out the letters and numbers, and my brain felt like porridge. But that difficulty, like my clogged sinuses, is absent from the poem. The only “cloudiness” is in the day—which was sunny.
