More responsibilities. More problems. More people needing help. More, more, more… More isn’t necessarily bad. That’s not what I’m saying. What I am saying is that I can’t handle more right now. I have my own problems. I have my own self to take care of. If I don’t take care of myself first, then I won’t be able to care for, help, or be responsible for anyone else. My doctor is incommunicado right now and I feel like I’m drowning. That’s not his fault and I don’t blame him for taking some time for himself, mind you – he has to take care of himself, too. My uncle has heart surgery tomorrow. A good friend of mine had a major heart attack last week and just got out of the ICU today. I haven’t climbed in several days because my wrist hurts so badly – the wrist that was broken in the motor vehicle accident that is not yet criminally settled almost a year later. I’m in a tough spot. I feel tired. Alone. Worried. Someone yanked my driver’s side mirror out and smashed it on the ground. Another insurance claim. Great. Just great. Another senseless act of vandalism that costs me money I don’t have. What a day.
Content Rating PG, for the most part
I try to keep the content of my posts in the PG range (meaning that maybe your 13-year-old should not read it... Just kidding!) - you know, something I could get away with tastefully in the town square without getting lynched, tarred-and-feathered, or hung (and something my mother would NOT wash my mouth out with soap for). As far as what age you have to be to understand some of the subtleties of my humor in writing and/or speaking, well... That may vary. A lot.