Dear you,
It's my birthday month and I am not aging gracefully. In fact, I am really pissed off. My left knee blew out over a week ago. The cause is perhaps too much action, too many hamstring curls and 80's style aerobic play (see photo). Whatever the cause, age or chosen action, I found myself in that section of Walmart no one wants to be in, the one stocked with aids for the infirm. So unattractive, all of it, the bunion buttons, hernia wraps, and my "aid", the knee brace. I think it's called a sleeve.
Well, it could be worse. I could be indicted! Just like my fellow Gemini "pal", Donald. Read the indictment. Pick your favorite Trump quote from a witness. This one cracked me up:
"I don't want anybody looking. I don't want anybody looking through my boxes, I really don't. I don't want you looking through my boxes."
What an idiot. Doesn't that sound like a petulant nine year old? I cannot believe we are trapped in this endless hell dance with Trump and his devotees. The man is so twisted, so corrupt, and so possibly able to dodge this latest indictment. Ooof. Is our democracy suffering from some sort of degenerative disease, like my knee, is it too just ready to call it a day and check out? I don't think the Walmart infirmity aisle is stocked with a cure for our Donald Disease.
My birthday wish? Perfect success for Jack Smith, Esquire.
Maybe this time, maybe this time, we'll win . . .
I shall hobble on!
Love,
Joyce
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