One never has words.
Not, you know . . . . not printable ones.
Keep a place in your prayers tonight for an Army LRRP who served honorably and miserably in Vietnam and never quite—as I saw it—got the luck he deserved. And died too, too fucking young.
Tom, I haven’t thrown anything tonight, or punched my fist into the wall. But only because it would upset my husbands—and because I’m not good enough with spackle and paint to be sure I could patch it properly.