Pitty Buddy

Another early morning, and this time over a digital camera. Actually, when I woke up I remembered someone mentioning that our recently purchased camera is on sale with a coupon at another place. The store I bought it from matches prices but . . . I don't have the coupon and will they match without it. Oh no, the mind games begin.

Some days I think it's better not to talk to anyone, if not so I will sleep better, but so than I won't have to be concerned for their lives, too. Recently, a stranger told me they have four children, three and under, and I'm . . . well a wreck. How do they feed them, bath them, play with them all. And here it is a complete stranger, though he looked pitiful like a sad little puppy, it's his life not mine.

I wonder why I'm worn out. I worry about everyone and everything. Don't tell me the Minnesota Twins are at the top of the National League. Now I have to worry about them blowing it. Where does that come from? "The other shoe will drop," feeling. Once when we bought a new TV, I was sure someone would steal it because I surely didn't deserve it.

Things are changing for me though. I did hear that Senator Kerry might have a chance at winning the White House. All I did was cross my fingers and hope. That's not as bad as last year when I was convinced we'd live in the Kingdom of Bushes forever. Bring it on, I can ignore your problems with the best of them, except of course if you throw me those big brown puppy eyes. Then be sure you have a pitty buddy, forever.

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