So, another year rolls by and what have you done? Just drive me batty with all those awful, weird images. What is there to life? Just more of the same. Is it worth it? It's a question that keeps me awake, torments me, gets under my skin, makes my head spin, my stomache churn, my bowels rumble. "Relief", I cry, but there is none. No one hears, no one answers; am I to bear the taunts of my neighbors who call me Dr. Sisyphus? Dogs snap at me; cats claw at my legs, and crows fly overhead to drop pebbles on my bare scalp. (Ha, and your empty promise to send me two Light my Fire caps; they're probably still in Sweden lost in a snowstorm). But I digress.
So, you are now 43. That's my waist measurement, so at long last you caught up to me. Fat (sorry) chance; I have moved the large fridge into my study so I won't have to make the long trek to the kitchen to get badly need nourishment to sustain me during the long nights. And days. They never end.
Oh, I almost forgot, Happy Birthday! and thanks for making my life full of interesting faces and places and relations and relatives and memories. And thanks for your patience, endless patience, And your encouragement and your love---and your successes, and your Egg stories. You make ME happy, I am profoundly grateful.
Love you dearly.
Have a great day.
Have lots of great days , Keith
Gpa
