I must be taking myself too seriously lately because I have not laughed since the Super Bowl commercials. My yin and yang, Cheesh and Chong and gin and sing are out of sync. The proof of the pudding is a new crop of fever blisters smack dab front and center beneath my snozola. Surely I am not yucking it up sufficiently enough to be healthy. I feel like a self conscience, insecure adolescent with bad acne. I slather on Abreva to no avail. The good news is once you hit sixty, you become invisible and no one looks at you anyway.
From my Journal The Book of Delights: Quiet
4 years ago
1 comment:
Oh, but we're always watching and listening...
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