A long, tough slog of sixteen hour days.

Friday is a day off. I will be able to buy groceries. I am currently subsisting off of pilfered oatmeal packets and freezerburned costco meatballs from 2015 (because they are undefended).

The 26% homeless increase is real, as is the opioid epidemic. The homeless river camp "Thug Island" (which burned twice last year) is back with a vengeance; they've painted up warning signs all over the river ("our dog bites" etc. ) and have scattered their trash far and wide. Also interesting: there is detritus in the trees a good six feet up. When the river flows, those fuckers are underwater. Realistically speaking they were all wiped out in March and are accumulating hobo flotsam at a formidable rate. Also, I drove past a pile of an easy hundred blue-green prescription bottles on the path yesterday morning, all uncapped. I should have taken a picture. They've scattered to the bushes now. I don't really want to stop and see if they're smurfing but at the same time I reckon they aren't hoarding asthma meds.

I left my bug goggles in Washington by mistake. When I pass through a swarm of whatever the heinous river flies they have down here are, it feels like someone threw a handful of sand at me. At speed, the impact against my closed eyelids hurts. And I don't always close my eyes in time. I have gone to sleep with red eyes every night, and have too many times wiped soaked, crushed insects out of my eyelashes.

Tomorrow morning I will make origami and put it in a card because my daughter misses me.