...and that pretty much sums up my entire existence, now. I'm a 58 year old ex-hippie, never married, no children, estranged from my family ever since Dick Nixon took office. I live in a ratty trailer that's falling down around me, am dead broke, in poor health, and very likely to be evicted in the next few weeks. Which of course means I've taken in stray cats over the years and am hosting 11 at present (a number NEVER to be increased). Depression and mood changes were a burden since childhood, but I was only diagnosed (unipolar/bipolar rapid-cycling chronic major depression - say that five times, fast!) in my forties. By that time a great deal of permanent damage had been done. And now here I sit, writing to perfect strangers. Don't know if I really want to - I don't know if I'll ever write again. I'm going to walk away from my computer now and mull it over. Mulling is one of the things I do best.