Why I rant

I notice that bad or less than good news at the eye specialist tends to get me really down. My anger and rants follow news that I can't be cured, that there is no established treatment, that I will likely end up with no sight at all. I don't want anymore bad news, tell someone else, I'm done hearing it. 

I want hope. I want good news. I want possibility. I want potential. Just tell me the good stuff. Please?

This weekend we have company after all. My youngest son, Arthur, is visiting. I love seeing him and getting to spend time playing catchup. He's quite smart and funny and extremely entertaining. 

No progress on the closets. I slept 16 hours last night and could easily sleep another 10 or 12. More medicine changes, the energy and exhaustion are wild swings usually taking me by surprise by the way they come and go. Today I sorted clothes, washed a load and did the dishes. Now, I'm pooped again.

It's all okay, it's the weekend. Nothing I have to do unless I feel like it.