Yesterday, full of self pity over my broken relationship, I wrote this:

Before today there was always the hope of something. She would text and say “wanna meet for brunch when I get out of church?” or “what are you doing this afternoon, can you help me in my garden?” or “there is an art festival downtown this afternoon, want to go?”

Not too long after I wrote that, she did text. She asked what I was doing this afternoon? She offered to cook me dinner if I helped her. I went over. Had a great dinner. Did the help thing then sat down and watched the Cowboy game.

I didn’t hate Sunday as much after that.

In the immortal words of Chuck Berry:

“C’est la vie” say the old folks
It goes to show you never can tell