IN WHICH OUR HEROINE DECIDES THAT GETTING OUT OF BED IS HIGHLY OVERRATED

It's all your fault.

Yes, you read that right.  I am officially blaming each and every one of you for making it positively impossible for me to function like a normal human person in polite society.

With the exception of our dear friend Betty (who has been alarmingly quiet lately), you have petted and coddled and encouraged and loved and cooed gently and basically made me feel like the Queen High Exalted of the Whole Damn Universe every minute of every day.

You're kind to me, and you offer wisdom and tips and generosity to me in the form of messages and emails and letters and presents and prayers and sweet and considerate thoughts and companionship.

You know that old saying..."I'm in my own little world, but it's OK because they know me here" ?  Well, I live that motto.  In freaking spades.

I've had the opportunity to play in a different sandbox these last few weeks (doing a little helping as a volunteer for an organization).  The work has been exhilarating and quite a mental challenge for my tiny little brain, but so far I've managed not to make too much of a mess of it.  The problem, though, is that I am reaching for the duct tape every afternoon to prevent any more stupid crap from coming out of my face.  Today, after a conference call, I had to go into the bathroom and say to the portly spinster staring back at me: "Will you just get a grip already and stop thinking of these people as your  stitchy peeps?  These people don't "get" you, and since none of them are stitchers, they probably don't have the highly-developed tolerance for your nonsense and propensity for making up words that don't exist, but that you think are hi-lar-ee-us.  Stop acting like an idiot hermit spinster who hasn't had the good sense to leave her Happy Chair for nine years and act like you know what it means to be normal!"

This, of course, would have been even more effective had I not been delivering this speech in my eighteen year old sweatpants and purple fuzzy socks that are too slippery, but keep my feet warm.

(It was a conference call, kids, and I was participating from home.  Let's not get too nuts.)

Anywhoose...my whole point in all of this is that this thing of ours really is a safe place.  I tried watching the news tonight and found myself hollering at Lester Holt as if he could hear me, and I made the mistake of looking at the Facebook, and all I got was a lot of vitriol.  But the very moment I click on that little Blogger button, I know that the troubles of the world will wash away and that I can put the duct tape away...at least for another day.

Thank you for that, my dear friends.   There aren't a lot of safe places left to fall these days, so believe me when I tell you how much I appreciate this one.

Finally, a note from Stewey:

Ditto.