A word on Despair

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A word on Despair (previously mentioned): Although our close relationship has taken a sabbatical, that familiarity is still there. Occasionally we meet for dirty martinis and catch up and though we talk, it's not personal. She's seeing other people.
I know her ways The last time I could actually count the pores on her chin, I was shaking a illegible prescription at the sky and yelling, "I have always depended on the kindness of modern medications!" It's been a a good chunk of time, but it's irritating to know she's around, pestering the innocent and not so innocent.

What ever space she had manhandled in my life is now occupied with merino, Blue Faced Leicester, sock yarn, sourdough anything and the occasional dance number by the resident house hippo. Everything's swellagant, Darlings. No trouble here, just the usual frustrations. Like I can't find the bloody keys to the Honda. and it Friday and I haven't got a plan.

Oh? Wooo! Friday! (Bursts into the Muppet Theme Song!)

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