Well, not my residence, but my butt. Ozzie and I did a 4.5 mile walk this morning and I came home and actually went upstairs to quilt. I’ve decided that one of my problems is the high contrast thread in this quilt. It’s just not my style. Although this quilt is nicely pieced and I suppose it’s coming out okay, my brain objects to the contrast. Perhaps I should refer piecers who like contrast to someone else? Hate to lose the business, but I also hate having something so trivial depress the living daylights out of me. Well, okay, there’s more to the depression than just the quilt and feeling sick and tired. I did hear from the doc . . . anemia to be sure. Just continue regular supplements for now, perhaps go see my endocrinologist. And then there’s Mr. Rolling in the Deep who I would just like to hold under for a while . . . well, I need to let it go. I’ve never had anyone write stories for me about us and make everything so intimate and loving and then just ‘poof!’ I’ll never understand it and, I suppose that is what is killing me. I always have to know why. I always have to know why something does or doesn’t work. I also need to remember that if I don’t fill someone’s waking thoughts they don’t deserve me, and I need to remember that Mr. Darcy was a fictional character. Well, back to quilting and singing at the top of my lungs. I hope the neighbors don’t mind!