I’ve been weary. Oh so weary. Isn’t that a song? I can’t be sure because of my weariness. Brush my hair? Do I have to? Feed the animals? Can’t they miss a meal? Plain and simple, I’m about at my limit rustling up spare energy. In other words, I’m dog tired.

Right about now you might be thinking, quit feeling sorry for yourself, Janet. I’m busy also but you don’t see ME whining. Okay, so maybe you’re a whirlwind like my friend Sharon who never tires. Well good for you. And her. But not everything is about you and Sharon. So get over yourself already. This is MY blog and I’m trying to tell you how tired I am. Jeeeeez…

I’m so sorry. I have to apologize for being rude back there. I’m not myself when I’m weary. Now don’t get me wrong; it’s not like my crankiness means I’d have you killed just for a differing opinion. Not that I couldn’t. Have you killed, that is. After all, this is America and we have the First Amendment. We also have folks willing to bump you off for putting it into action.

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