You never give me your money! You only give me your funny papers.

No photo essay for you. No energy for me. Hubby and I spent an hour and-a-half at the bank this afternoon discussing financial and retirement planning, and I just hated it. I probably wasted a lot of everyone’s time by making funny remarks and making the financial adviser laugh, which was okay, but the fact is, I was trying to avoid actually discussing the matter at hand. I hate talking about finances. I hate thinking about them. Argh!

Then there was the dress rehearsal for the choir show tonight. It went tolerably well, considering the technical stuff that wasn’t figured out yet. The lights were on and off at the wrong times, too bright, or too dim. There was a smoke machine that was making the basses and tenors cough. I accidentally caught the very long hair of a fellow soprano on the buttons on my jeans pockets. I mean, it’s past her waist. That’s just hazardous, let’s face it.

Anyway, it’s going to be a spectacular show, even with the problems and the lack of general musical talent. But I’m tired now, and this is all I can give you.

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