I really hate worrying about things I can’t control, and as a general rule I don’t. So it’s not surprising that I find the following incredibly sane:
Truer words were never spoken.
"That's not writing - that's typing." --Truman Capote
I really hate worrying about things I can’t control, and as a general rule I don’t. So it’s not surprising that I find the following incredibly sane:
Truer words were never spoken.
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. . . and this from a woman covered in cat hair. Having chosen the same thought path (mostly), I find it difficult to deflect those intent on conversationally rending their garments and keening in despair. Perhaps it is a necessary catharsis for them. I prefer contemplating baby daffodils, the scent of narcissus and a red amaryllis waving a cheery “halloo” from the dining room window on a frigid day. Life goes on (whether we notice or not.)
Yes! I also loved that entry so much. So much I had to send her an email, since her comments are off.
Also: sudden discovery, for some reason Google wasn’t catching your feed. Or something. I had no idea you’d been so chatty. Fixed now.