Before I Say Anything Else

Thank you. I mean that genuinely.

I had originally considered removing the comment feature on my last entry because I didn't want anyone to try and say something to make me feel better. That's because I didn't want to feel better. I wanted to be inconsolable, to wallow in my misery, to throw a full blown pity party with crepe streamers and mylar balloons. I deserved it dog-gone-it! If I couldn't have my moment at the finish line then I was not about to be cheated from my moment of high-octane defeatism.

But you, and you know who you are, ruined it for me. You went ahead and took time out of your day to not only read my depressing diatribe but to post a comment that was understanding of my disappointment and sympathetic to my need to wallow, whine and wig out.

I didn't think words could help, but they did. And I owe you. Thank you.

And Dana thanks you too. More than you will ever know.

Now, on to Plan B. . .