Unlike my beloved spouse, who has recently exhibited a rather pronounced proclivity for authorship, I feel less and less inclined to write anything these days. Shall I mention letting my soft palate get away from my brain and say things to my dearest friend that it shouldn'tve? Shall I mention having blood pressure and a pulse so high this morning that the technician made me come back at the end of the doctor's visit to check it again (it was normal)? Shall I mention the baking sunshine that's making the puddles in my front yard from the [concurrent] driving rainstorm be warmer than most people would want to bathe in? Shall I mention not feeling like putting away all the stuff that I sorted out to put away? Shall I mention trying to nap in four different places, only to be pursued and interrupted by a dreaming kitty?