A Moving Target

This blog is a moving target—don't get too used to today's topic, 'cause it'll probably change two days from now.

The Traveler called me last night and mocked me (I hope he was mocking!) for saying there were no good men. He's a good guy and he knows it. There's just no zing between us. We think we're pretty good traveling companions so long as we have separate hotel rooms. We'd be no good sharing a bedroom door.

But when he quoted to me my offensive words, I couldn't even remember having written them. They were sooo pre-real-estate-crises. Dating? I can't even remember dating. I can't even remember having the time or the inclination to date.

I'm tired. Every day, both on the drive to work and the drive home from work, I'm overwhelmed with fatigue and slapping myself to stay awake. I would want to try to fit dating into that picture? Nope. I think not.

So if you came here to read about my dating misadventures, you're simply going to have to browse through the archives.

But thanks for thinking there are actually possibilities!