Living in the halfway house has aged me terribly. My soups have been stolen. My pets have been poisoned. My nights annihilated by the noises of a neonatal nurse. My pickleball paddle was pickpocketed by Tony. My cane was cracked by a Catholic, and, fittingly, I’ve now been defrocked.
That is to say my hot tub robe is missing. It was last seen on the hook on the back of the door to the shower and bathroom. Last night I had to use a common towel and I caught a chill. If I survive the night, I would appreciate the return of my hot tub robe. It is all I can do not to be scooped up by a hawk when I walk through the courtyard to the hot tub. The robe increases my girth and keeps me safe.
I have been the victim of numerous other affronts already this year. In January my slippers were scattered in two separate places very far from each other. I hobbled in great pain as my unprotected foot began to ice over from a circulatory disease I acquired by petting a dog and not washing my hands afterwards. On Groundhog Day I noticed the rooks had been removed from my chess set by a poor sport. The only suitably-sized replacement I could find was a pair of Airpods I found in an Uber. This has resulted in a rash-like outbreak on my hands. Oh cruel world/ halfway house – what demon from the depths of hell created thee? (HS)
Fortunately, I still have my Bible, and, as required by the newspaper, I shall provide us with another uplifting quote.
“In due time their foot will slip; their day of disaster is near and their doom rushes upon them.” ~ Near the back 32:35
Hear His word, fellow residents at the halfway house, and return my robe.

Larry Thack just wagered his house that President Trump was a guest on “Hee-Haw”