
The Sunday blue sky is matching my blue mood.
Yesterday's gray, wet Saturday was one long day of one thing after another. The day started with strange explosive noises I later learned were coming from my noisiest neighbor, that being a Chesapeake Energy gas drilling site.
By mid morning I found I had another flat tire, the second in a week.
The flat tire kept me from the Tandy Hills Brush Bash.
Before I found the flat I'd talked to my mom and learned she'd broken a bone in one of her feet. I got emails from 2 Washington friends telling me about friends with bad cancer, with one of them having the same type brain cancer that killed Ted Kennedy.
Tootsie Tonasket called me around 5 so I could hear her drunken son having a drunken fit, trying to get into her house. I told Tootsie to call the police. I don't know if she did.
Around 7 last night I tripped and banged the top of my right hand against a wall. This morning that hand looks as if I've been in a fight.
A couple days ago Gar the Texan blogged about blogging, the first paragraph of which said, "Durango somehow convinced me to start this little escapade into pain and suffering. And after almost 2 years, I continue to do so (suffer pain)."
So, now I have to carry that on my guilty conscience, that somehow I'm to blame for foisting Gar the Texans' misanthropic ramblings on the world. I feel terrible about this.
And then someone calling himself Whited Sepulchre commented saying, "Gar, The Huffington Post doesn't post as much as Durango. Just thought I would point that out."
Now, that's just not true. I only post about 90% as much as The Huffington Post.
My therapist, Dr. L.C., seems to have gone missing. And right when I need her. So far, even though the sky is blue, Sunday is looking to be another bad day like yesterday. Maybe I can make an effort to turn it around.