Turned off my CGM alarms except for the urgent low and slept well.

Mostly recovered from yesterday's comedy of errors in which every effort at pod-fixing (cable worked until it didn't, further testing require) and in-lawn leafing went to hell and culminated in a blood sugar crash as I failed to fix the third tire for the third time (gun-toting, orange-clad Amish lads helped the first time – I need one of those one-inch toothy straps) and I hurled a chair across the yard and shattered it, the chair, not the yard – though I'd like to do that because fuck that place and fuck that yard and fuck each and every one of those fucking leaves.

Fears that this word-morning would continue in the vein of the last century of word-mornings and be further reflective of the aforementioned leafblower tire clusterfuck proved unfounded: broke through the Friction and entered an approximation of Flow. While I know what it's about, I also have no clue what it's about nor do I particularly care: that something exists is validation enough.

(Turn off your mind, relax and float downstream, indeed, Mr Lennon – no LSD required, at least not this time.)

P.S.: Updated the NO TIME TO DIE input post with mini-review.