(I can’t bring myself to illustrate this with an appropriate image. Here’s a nice damselfly instead.)
I’m back from the doctor’s, and the word is… cancer. Two great big lumps of it. Gotta craft a treatment plan.
What do you say about a thing like this? God help me and defend me–that’s about the best I can come up with. Crikey, you turn 75 and the roof falls in. And there’s still the arthritis to deal with. That, they think they can fix.
Somehow I’ve got to get into writing mode today. That’ll help. I hope it’s not too freakin’ hot outside.