To be a geezer, or not to be

Morning all, hope you are well. We are still under a snow drift, but are trying to just maintain. Actually, it is a normal day. We aren’t leaving the house yet, and Young Master Duke is being a goodest of boys. Though that might be a problem. He sinks in the snow up to his personal equipment when it is time to do the needful.

Poor baby.

Have been busy lately. Back in 22 I started tormenting folks on a personal level daily. It’s a horrible thing to do, I know. I use messenger on a popular social media platform, and send many messages every day. I have roughly 30 folks I bug this way. I keep that list small, because I don’t want to be overwhelmed. Thing is, pain levels being what they are, and depression being an evil rat bastard, I did this in self-defense. I didn’t want to swallow a 9mm pill so to speak, so I started checking in with folks.

One of those I check in with regularly has many moons more clean time than I do. They are very knowledgeable about recovery, and I enjoy picking their brain with their permission. However, I have noticed that they have been less comfortable lately, so I poked the bear. I asked them if they were a geezer. is the reference I used. I believe I stated that since I am an old bag, are they a geezer?

It prompted a conversation. I’m not certain if I helped in cheering my friend. I hope so. Meanwhile, I have work to do. I better get to it. By the way, if I were a genetic male, I would qualify for the term geezer. Take care my friends, huge hugs and huggage. -L