Today is Father's Day. It's my first since Dad passed. I haven't coped well. Or perhaps I have without realizing it? Regardless, I'm not going out today. I'm not ready for that. My readers, if I have any left, will notice that there aren't any blog entries for a long time. The posts are there, tucked into drafts: Half-finished glimpses into daily life that will likely never see the light of day; Entries concerning Trump insanity, and COVID-19, and Ohio's Stay at Home order; Frustrations over Better Half's health, and my own health, and my mother's; Bits and pieces from my toiling over a new garden by the fence; Thoughts on our dogs; The bathroom overhaul project; Memories and reflections of Dad; My fear of bone cancer and the relief felt once it was confirmed that I dodged that lethal bullet. I haven't finished a single post. Apathy wants to crash on my mental couch. Sure, a day or two isn't bad. It's when Apathy decides to stay.