I found a bruise on my arm Tuesday–after going specifically to a particular store so I could take advantage of the Senior Discount–that I don’t remember getting. It’s not going away so I figure it’s some sort of terminal disease creeping in.
I have had some success getting back into an abandoned manuscript. I have several stories that I have to finish. There is no good reason not to and so I am hacking away at them.
Maybe it’s the bruise/terminal illness compelling me to work and like the girl in the O Henry story, The Last Leaf, I will die when the last story is finished.
See what I mean? I’ve reached THAT age of crazy we all hope to avoid.
But tomorrow is Friday so there may be some new crazy about which to worry.