Tick-Tick-Tick

I need a new clock. I want a real clock., one with a nice circular face, clearly marked with large numerals. A clock with metal hands that tick off the hours in true clockwise fashion. Digital clocks are time thieves. They sit there, silently switching past too many minutes and hours that escape without notice. I think these digital things are evil and I blame them for my inability to get anything done on time anymore.

Timing is indeed everything.

That"s my story; I"m sticking to it.

That Mr.Right took a fall off of two paint cans yesterday--that's right, I said paint cans--two stacked containers of Sherwin-William's finest that he somehow thought would be a fine substitute for a ladder, that he did some nasty damage to his left wrist and was more than a bit uncomfortable is no excuse for keeping Linda breathlessly awaiting my sage observations about love, lost or otherwise. Her post yesterday deserves better, but right now I deserve a good night's sleep. I spent my evening alternating between watering about fifty potted plants to brace them for a predicted high temperature of 102 today, yelling "what in the world were you thinking" at my wounded hubby, and trying to find something that would appease the appetite of a very sick cat. Tomorrow. For sure. I love ya, Linda, but my mattress beckons and I can't resist.