Ever see soldiers or marching bands standing in one spot moving their legs as if marching?

Yes, that is called marking time.

That is exactly how I feel every day–as if I am merely marking time.

As if I am waiting for the next command *forward march* or *to the rear, march* …the next command.

Hup…two…three…four…

I keep imagining myself with my old energy levels back. Floors vacuumed and scrubbed, everything dusted and put away.

Sigh.

Then The Curmudgeon whines that he needs this or that from the pharmacy. Off I go on another errand.

Standing in line for 20 minutes and back home.

Yeah, never did get to the dusting, vacuuming and scrubbing of floors…

Seems to happen far too often.

So many papers piled up on my table. Paid bills, unpaid bills, advertisements, receipts, too much…too much.

I need to wade through it all and get my shredder working overtime.

To have all this paper down to manageable proportions will thrill the heck out of me. My recycling cans will work overtime. If I find the energy…

I do not want to be another episode of Hoarders.

I never saw the point in makeup.

Yes, I wore it from time to time. I don’t wear it now.

G thinks I should, now that my hair is getting so gray.

We all know why I getting grayer day by day.

Can you say The Curmudgeon?

One color I don’t like is purple, purple in any shade. Wouldn’t you know it, the frames that looked the best on me were..yep, lilac.

It doesn’t take much to drive me to tears.

To combat this, I start a long campaign of silliness.