He gives to his beloved ones rest
The day is nearing its close. Too much has been crammed into the ol' temporal sausage casing, as usual. collinsmom
is due home in half an hour or so from Kentucky. The critters are lying at my feet, just wanting to be in the same room. I'm beat.
I don't know what the deal is. Am I just that much older and slower than I used to be? Or is it that ða wif
isn't around to hold down the fort while I gallivant around? I feel like I'm getting done only a fraction of what I need to get done, and I end each day wrung out.
There is no joy in Mudville.