I had to update my blog just now.
It was very scarey for me, I don't like change of any kind, in fact I'd put it off until they wouldn't let me log on without conforming!

I was then invited to create some widgets, feeds and custom domains, which made me involuntarily shudder. I had to look away.

I don't know what they are and don't want to know.

I'd rather have my old Smith Corona back but that ain't gonna happen anytime soon.

I may be too old to keep up with all this stuff, it seems like every second I am being asked to learn something new. Is this fair?

Ah, forgive me, I had a brief lapse for a second. Life, after all, isn't fair, but no one tells you that until you are just old enough to be bitterly disappointed.

At first it's all fun and games. Then the first big blow: finding out you cannot marry your father, he is already married, followed by the Santa Claus, Easter Bunny and Tooth Fairy debauchle, and the horrifying knowledge, revealed by the bullies at school, that
contrary to what your parents told you, you are not the cutest, smartest, or most talented kid in the world, let alone the best colorer.

The first time someone laughs at your hairdo or says you look like a "Dolly Madison doughnut, without the hole," it's all downhill.

Jiminey Cricket...a liar. When you wish upon a star nothing happens.

It's the same with all this walking I am doing with four pair of pants on, several layers of shirts, multiple socks, two hats, you get the picture.

If you see someone walking down Camelot Drive in Fond du Lac moving like one of those zombies from "Night of the Living Dead," you will know why.

I thought I was supposed to feel better afterwards, but instead I ache all over from the cold and all the clothes that cut off my circulation. I would like to take a hot bath, with bubbles, but the damn drain only lets the tub fill up half way. If there's a reason for this crime against humanity, I'd like to know.

I had to resort, once again, to duct tape.

Now, just to comfort myself from imminent change, childhood disappointments, and the setting in of arthritis, I am forced to ingest the following:

Seven freshly baked chocolate chips cookies, the chips still warm and melty. I tried not to, and in a lame attempt at self control gave a plateful to the man across the street from me digging, digging all day wth a backhoe.

It's no use.


I give up.

I will be taking therest of them to bed with me... for medicinal reasons.