2/19/2005 08:49:00 PM|||Britt|||That's the way I've felt most of my life. Recently, however, I have been rethinking that attitude. Perhaps, on occasion, it might be better me than you.

Given a situation, most people would make light of it. I tend toward darkness, a candle here and there, to set the mood, but not enough light to actually see the details.

Maybe it's just my eyes. They seem to be getting more sensitive to light, which is either due to age or due to living in the Pacific Northwest. Speaking of which: Damn, I have to go back to the dentist next week. Last time they scraped the hell out of my teeth and they're still sensitive to cold.

Sensitive. That was the active word that took me from one thought to another. I'm am often considered a sensitive male. And why not?

Therein lies the whereabout. Fully committed to extraneous partitions in an already extended and deprived family life that is about to implode from a complete lack of wherewithall. That, my friend, is a sentence fragment. Learn it.|||110887544437003776|||Better you than me