My friend Brad tells me that there are two roles during a conversation. He tells me this when I fess up to how bad of a listener I can be.
“Don’t worry, Michele.” He says. “No one listens. When people engage in a conversation there is only speaking and waiting to speak.”
I haven’t had much to say lately. I have begun several posts, even saved a few, but I can’t seem to push anything live.
And so I’ll wait until something comes to me, something good, decent, not too boring. Until then I’m not sure what I should do, sit silently and wait? Ask people to tell me stories? I’m disenchanted, bored, tired, and preoccupied to the utmost degree.
There’s a good chance I may forget how to speak by the time Tobyjoe returns from Georgia. It’s surprising how little one says when one doesn’t like to use a phone. I don’t go into an office any longer either.
Talking is overrated anyway.
So, here is a photograph of my new favorite item. I wear it as if it were an extra layer of skin.
I used to add thumbholes to some of my favorite long sleeve shirts. It worked for a while and then it would tear. I love wearing my shirts this way; it’s a superb option for those of us with perpetually cold hands.
Mihow 
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