Bleh!

I'm depressed. I must be. Looking back at my last several posts, it's clear that this must be my condition. Where's the mirth? The chuckles? Or even a few titters?

So I went and played golf. Where I did horribly. Worse than I have done in a long time. And an 11 year-old kid with a short attention span played better than I did. This did not do much to cheer me up. Even worse is the thought that this kid will get better, much better, over the next few years. Whereas I, of course, will get much worse.

It just doesn't seem fair. It's embarrassing when an 11-year-old outdrives you more often than not. And people frown on you beating up children. So I managed to restrain my inner ogre. It's just too bad that the Humane Society wasn't on the way home. I could have picked up a puppy to kick or a kitten to drown.

Of course, I wouldn't actually do that. I'm too much of a softy to harm a helpless little animal.

Once you get into a depression, it's difficult to get cheerful again. Music sometimes helps. Unless I get sidetracked by the Blues. Then you just spiral down into a funk. Avoid the TV and the radio. Too much news and little of it good.

Chocolate cake. I think that might be the answer.