Gertrude was right. You should believe anything anyone named Gertrude tells you.
I haven't written any personal things for a while. So, here we go.
My dog died.
My father went in for surgery. He had intubation issues.
My mother had to put her dog in the freezer because my father was in the hospital. I don't know why she couldn't dig a hole.
The dog stayed there awhile.
My mother took the frozen dog to the incinerator people. . . crematorium? Do they call it that for dogs?
She fell down and broke her arm.
There is no way I will finish anything I am trying to get done. I realize this now.
I am double booked on Saturday.
I don't know what I'm doing next year, so every dollar I spend feels like a twenty.
It starts to sound like whining.
I hope the Hamlet reference saves this post.
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