I ride the train at night and wonder if I will ever arrive

After a much-needed stretch of decent sleep, I woke up this afternoon with the area around my right eye dramatically swollen. It was not as bad, but I found myself explaining it to the urgent care doctor who got back to me this evening in terms of the time in second grade I was bitten on the face by a spider the night before class pictures. I felt like a melted candle person. We established the necessary reassurances that nothing untoward was occurring with my breathing or elsewhere in my system and I am now taking more antihistamines than usual, but I have no idea what caused it and do not appreciate it regardless.

I am not resigned to the mail slot in our door through which the mail carrier keeps folding oversized envelopes of mine which are addressed do not fold. At least they just left on the porch my copy of Lyudmyla Khersonska's Today Is a Different War (2023), which I am very much looking forward to. I have read one of its poems before.

As complained elsenet, I keep forgetting that Noir Alley just drops dead in the spring. The File on Thelma Jordon (1950)? Yay! For which I have to wait until May? Boooo. See also: my disappointment that TCM never uses its month of Oscar programming for anything too weird. I would totally watch a night of "Movies Which Won in Categories Now Discontinued, Have a Raft of Best Assistant Directors and Some Juvenile Oscars for the Hell of It."