I was supposed to go see some friends play in a band at a local Mexican restaurant this evening. However, the babysitter cancelled on us. I was really looking forward to it, too. Now, it's just going to be an evening at home, watering the pumpkins and reading. Any other night, that would sound really good to me. Not tonight. Not when I could have been sucking down three-dollar margaritas and listening to live music.
I just had another break, courtesy of Blogger. Whenever the editor comes back from one of those hiccups, I type like crazy, trying to keep ahead of the next one. It's like rushing to get the wash off the clothesline before the rainstorm hits. Sometimes I'm successful, and sometimes I get stuck in that little blue whirlpool of static.
Yes, I don't have too much to add after this morning's post. That subject (finances) is still pretty heavily on my mind. If I were a better Christian, I'd be able to trust in God and stop worrying. I can't do that. I've always been a worrier. I don't see that changing any time soon. That's what I do.
Now, I'm trying to bring this post to an end before the next blue Blogger cyclone. I'm looking for a graceful exit. A great egress, as P. T. Barnum might have called it.
Saint Marty just wants to take a pill and make his anxiety go away. Valium might work.