Strange how the night moves, with Autumn closing in.
It's a race, at this point; on one hand, I had my first mini-stroke a few days ago. On the other, I bought a house not long ago.
Yeah. A freakin' house.
It's a Scooby-Doo mystery house, needs more ICU than TLC - I paid cash.
I'm about as broke as I've ever been.
So. I've got loved ones and a memory I
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I'll probably outlive everybody - well, everybody born in 1928, anyway.
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That said, as I mentioned to Greg, I'm pretty much recovered already, outside of having to be careful when cornering or banking: it was a mild episode, much less worrisome than what Bret Michaels went through a coupla years ago.
It's just time telling me to stay focused.
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