Me and my bloody cold feet

I'd like to officially apologize for the minor formatting error in yesterday's post but I'm quite simply too pretentious to admit that I made a mistake and should probably hire an editor to improve my writing, so instead of saying sorry I'll just bring this highly unsexy and unnecessarily heavyhanded sentence to a violently awkward end just like so. I imagine accidentally hitting the return key two-thirds of the way through what was supposed to be a gloriously formidable glob of copy that would instantly sicken all who saw it and make them want to lob their laptops out the window into the path of a passing train, and then clicking publish without doing a final proofreadthrough, is the primary reason why the post has zero comments and a fat downvote from that oh so fearsome heavenly curation whale that is Hive account@xcurangel. If I wasn't at the moment so strongly opposed to the entirely logical yet strangely controversial practice of self-voting then I certainly would have downvoted it myself.

Clearly we have arrived at a quandary here, and equally clearly we have also switched to using the royal we for some reason here. What to do? Delete everything we've written thus far and start over, of course. Because the only thing I'm really worried about right now is the fact that I can't feel any of my toes. How did it manage to get so bloody cold that I can't feel any of my bloody toes? What's bloody wrong with my bloody blood circulation, when did I start swearing like such a bloody Brit, and did you know that bloody is a contraction of by Our Lady in which Our Lady refers to the blessed virgin Mary mother of none other than Jesus fucking Christ? It's bloody blasphemy I tell you! God, isn't it amazing how you can learn so many interesting things from making just one little bloody mistake and then refusing to apologize for it? I feel so inspired I could probably start my own religion if I felt like it. But I don't so I won't. I need to focus on what's really important right now—heating up some water so I can thaw out my toes before I suffer permanent tissue damage. There's a pretty fine line between a bad case of frostnip and full-blown frostbite and I really don't want to cross that line, especially not with my feet in such poor condition like this because I probably wouldn't even make it that far.

Anyway as always I'm Hive account@xbrandt and as always I'd like to say thanks for reading my blog but the truth is I suffer not only from potentially permanent tissue damage but also from chronic ingratitude, so instead of saying thanks I'll just wind this thing down for now without any fanfare, fanservice, or fancy gramercies of any kind and go see about soaking my feet for a while while trying to write out my last will and testament before I can't feel any of my bloody fingers either. I imagine everything will be fine.

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_{4-4-22. I broke today's post into three less formidable copyglobs for you. I hope you're happy but if you aren't have you considered religion and the power of positive thinking?}