Sea of Cat Claw

So dense youse gotta do it in the road

Years ago, while researching desert ascetics, I read about a goat farmer near Cascabel. He'd built a platform with shade and invited folks to come there to contemplate. He sold goat milk and meat. 

He's been dead a while, but I've wanted to go see. Cascabel is due north of Benson, AZ.

It was near dark when leaving Benson and threatening rain. Rather than wander into the unknown, I went south, past St. David to a campspot that's so gnarly the only traffic is Border Patrol. 

Now, five days later, I'm still bed-ridden by the pain from the herpes zoster (shingles). Yesterday, with my last dose of oxycodone, I washed dishes, my hair and boiled some eggs, but I'm now down to half a liter of water.

The pain has been worse this morning, as if my thigh has been scalded. Any movement, the slightest touch of fabric, is enough to wrest a cry from even my stoic lips.

They sent a new prescription for oxy to the Walmart in Benson, but I need to get packed and it's a long drive. Fortunately, it's warm enough to go without clothes...until Walmart.

Though not a believer, I suspect my karma was tainted that time I was late with Smith's dinner.