Dear Abby:
Dear Abby: My work life has spun out of control, my wife is away and I can’t sleep without her, my kids are being subject to government tests every single day of the week, and it’s going to be too cold to want to ski on Friday. On top of it all, I’m not blogging at all because I have nothing to say. What shall I do? Signed, Three Hats and No Cattle
Dear Cattle: Quitcherbellyachin’.
Confidential to Nancy on the Guyland: I don’t think I have your current email, ’cause I tried to answer your questions, but I don’t think you got mine. Respond to the email link on this page.
Really, I once lived for Dear Abby and Ann Landers. Now, Sound Off in the Troy Record is the only thing that makes me want to pick up the newspaper.
Hang in there, tough guy. This is the season of our discontent, in fact some British psycho-babbler professes that the 22nd is the “blue-est” day of the year. You’re right on schedule with the rest of us.