Sorry About That

I seem to have deserted you, gentle readers, again for several days. My only excuse is that I was afraid I was boring you with my continual whining about not selling my house and not being able to move. The situation is still the same, only with less hope than we had the first of the week. Two seemingly interested buyers turned out not to be (interested, that is), and I’ve been trying to dig myself out the slippery slope of melancholy that caused.

Couple that with boring television, hotter than hot temperatures, and dreadful cards yesterday at bridge, and I’m on the verge of needing a good dose of some anti-depressant.

The scale seemed to be permanently stuck no matter how little I ate, etc., etc., etc. Whine, whine, whimper.

So I bought a new scale (digital and supposedly well-calibrated) and discovered that the old one had been reading 20 lbs. lighter than it should.

Talk about a major downer.

I guess there’s nothing else to do, but just keep on keeping on.