I suppose hope can spring that way on certain days, but not on others. None of those days has been on the calendar lately and I’m not forecasting any change in mood’s weather. It’s sunny and cold outside and everything seems dreadful. I believe I offended a friend the other day (through what was probably perceived as glibness, nothing more, and the perception was mistaken; sometimes expression is imperfect and I was trying to be light and complimentary) and I don’t greatly care.
This week is "Hamlet” week in our house and I would like to take arms against a sea of troubles. Instead, I think I will make myself as invisible as permissible and speak little. The other day I passed along advice not to hit “send.” Today I say . . . say nothing.