You Don't Know the Half of It

Today is my half-birthday, and at this moment, my glass is half empty. Those adult kids of mine, the ones that have been coming and going all summer, are nowhere to be found. I have no pets to cuddle. And it's been raining for so long, it's enough to put out the fires on Hell's half-acre. I have half a mind to hop on a plane and fly halfway across the country to where it's hot and dry and where two of my kids live, an hour and a half apart.

But that's a half-baked idea, and now is not the time to go off half-cocked. You know, half the time, I don't mind the rain. I mean, when it rains, I don't have to water the garden, and that's not half bad. But this summer, it has rained so much that you'd have to be half-blind not to see the price we pay for all that rain. There's water in my basement, my garden produce is only half what it should be, and my property is so water-logged, my lawn guy gives up before he's half-way done.

I know this post isn't half as good as what I usually manage, but please give me half a break. I think I'll fill up my glass past the half-full point and toast to a half year past my birthday with a half year to go until the next one. Getting there will be half the fun, as I have at least three adventures in store this fall.

And that's all I've got. Half a post with no conclusion.