Thinky McThinkerson

I can't think of anything more to write about. I've covered the dogs. My relatives. My anger issues. My tearful moments. What's left? I took Betsy to respite today and then I came home and took a nap. It felt good. I picked up Betsy from respite. I sat down and thought about what to write. I don't know what to have for supper. I don't feel like cooking. Robert would be happy to eat a bologna sandwich every day for the rest of his life which would no doubt be shortened by the ingestion of bologna. I got a disappointing chocolate malt on the way home. Too thick, not enough malt an overall D minus. Dad needs milk and I need something. I know what I need but I can't say it out loud. I can think it but I can't share it. Blogs are for blah blah blah. Not for what you are REALLY thinking. That's why we have ear wax. So no one can look inside see what's going on. Sometimes people say they wish they knew what you were thinking. Get a Q-tip and come on in. I think about my previous lives. I think I was a prize fighter with anger issues. Maybe a saloon girl or a school *marm. What the hell is a *marm?? I have no idea what I was or would have been OR wanted to be. Isn't one life time enough? If you don't get the gist of it this time should you really have to do it again? There are parts of my life I would definitely do again. Not redo. Just live through again. I'd do the Disney World trips over and over. Enough. If the spider doesn't fall into the teacup and ride to Paris on a piece of sponge cake, I'll be back tomorrow with another tale.

*A british word meaning an old school teacher, usually a bespectacled virgin. Somewhat old and stingy.