Water is running from my eyes. Conventionally that water is called tears.  But tears usually signify something: sorrow, joy, elation, agony, prickly pear up the ass, anything aside from nothing.  But not the concept of "Nothing."  That can be a legitimate cause for tears, whether joyous tears or sad tears depends on your outlook.  The water running down my face has no emotional or ostensible physical root.  It's just a nasty by product of having eyes in my head for nearly 28 years.  Every once in awhile the eyes fall out and grapes roll forward into the sockets like the pinball queue, but otherwise those eyes are there day and night.  And now my faithful ojos are rebelling.  With my job I'll probably end up talking to an ophthalmologist today and'll be able to ask her why the hell this fluid surplus plagues my eyes. 
I already spent an hour of my morning reading, and have to hurry up with this bit of writing in order to trot off to the bank, cash my sales tax return check from the state of WI (I don't know why, but apparently everyone that lived in WI through the year that was 1999 got 180 plus dollars returned to them as a sales tax rebate.  That places a round of drinks on me), and get some time in down at Eagle's to write and peruse the new issues of the weekly papers.  I haven't had the time to sit and sip coffee there for quite some time so it'll be a nice change of pace.  I take that back, just because something is different doesn't mean it is a nice change of pace.  I like the pace I'm currently living and anything outside of that pace is an excruciating pain in the ass like the aforementioned prickly pear and where it is to be lodged.  I need large pieces of wood or particle board and I need them in the price range of free.  I'm going to do three painting.  And they have to be huge.  I can't do detail unless it's on a large scale.  These things I must do.  The weekend, of it's two days I get only one off, approaches as does the end of this week's gibberish. 

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