They say writing is therapeutic, but I don’t know.  Probably would work a whole lot better if I’d be more regular with it.

Some days I have too much going on in my head though, to get it all out on paper or the screen so I have to just let it be.

Things are good so far in my life, not too much to complain about other than the crowd at the laundromat this afternoon (have to make regular jaunts there as our home machine will not spin the water out of the clothing) and let me just tell you that the laundromat on a Sunday afternoon is better for people watching than a Walmart.

I’m not entirely sure that the couple parked next to my mother and me weren’t sparking a little herbal refreshment while waiting for their dainties, if you get my drift.  They had some godawful smelling cigarettes if they weren’t-which i had the unpleasant experience of being downwind of when i took a finished basket on to the car while mom and I waited for the rest of it to finish up.

I’m gonna go grade these papers and try to digest the experience.  I think too we’re going to stick to weekday trips.