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I’m on my way to the dermatologist today. I haven’t been there in ten years, but I have to have a spot on my face checked out.

Stanley is going to day care to sniff derriere and play with his buddies. He’ll be peachy.

I’m the one who’ll be a basket case. No, not because of the appointment.

Because I get lost a lot.

I have a full tank of gas. I have an apple in my purse in case I get stuck like the Donner Party. I won’t have to gnaw off my leg or anyone else’s. I have my phone charger. I have a printed map and my map app – not that the latter matters a hill of beans.

Warm, fuzzy thoughts would be appreciated.

God: Peter, is she going somewhere again?

Peter: Yes, God. She looks prepared this time, however.

God: I don’t think it would be a bad idea to alert her guardian angel, Peter, just to be on the safe side.

Peter: I believe she’s on vacation this week, sir.

God: Then get the understudy ready.

Peter: I would, sir, but she seems to be lost herself.

Thunder rolls in an otherwise clear sky. It isn’t a storm, just God laughing.