A Day in a Life

Dear God,

I woke up this morning, thanks, with the usual fuzziness in my head and stiffness in this body. So I'm thinking what a garbage way to wake up every day. On the other hand not waking up is, well, not too swift either. I guess if it works it is going to hurt until I move around a bit. This goes for my brain and my heart also, as I have noticed that when I turn my attention to You my fuzzy goes away, thanks.

My mail is/was so full of people living life, some good, some not so good. The common thread was their faith in this recovery thing You gave us. Thanks. Nephew Peter's knee cap is now in two pieces, and the boy is deeply saddened. He is so afraid his life is over if he is unable to play his sports. Now he will have time to discover girls and forget about sports. He will of course get the best medical help and is seeing the doctor who ministers to a professional football team. Sometimes uncles are good to have around, thanks.

I'm going to go to Brooklyn today and torment some old people. I somehow feel the need of the ladies to nag at me about my obvious lack of wardrobe acumen or my weight, whatever, they seem to brighten up after a go at me. They just miss their long ago deceased husbands. I'm glad we men die before our women as it is much harder to stay behind, at least that is how I see it. It is by giving them something to smile for that the aches and fuzzies I have in the morning seem so worthwhile.

Your job today is to see to it that I follow Your instructions and to watch over my family, friends, fellow loopies, those who linger on the steps and the people I don't like, none of whom read this.

And Why Not?
The Recovery Group

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