I'm doing better. Cautiously optimistic.
It's gray out, sunless and cold, the air dripping splats of freezing rain. My window reveals a blurry view of brittle variations of green, from diseased blackberries to skeletal trees bristling with moss. Winter is here.
I don't have to be anywhere. I'd have already made my legendary pumpkin bread, but I'm out of eggs. Ah me, from all that I have seen and heard, the course of true love (baking) never did run smooth. (I'm sure Shakespeare was really thinking about baking. He was a smart cookie. heh)
Thanks to those who emailed, called and texted. I feel loved. And supported. And a little embarrassed. ;o)
So here's hoping that was an aberrant glitch and I can get back to my normal levels of neuroticism.