The thing is, I'll turn fifty-two next month, so I've been having to deal with the sudden realization that my life is almost half over. It's caused me to wonder things like:
The smattering of rain on my tin roof above me,
Flurries of Fall leaves swirling across the ground,
The chilled, dank wind blowing in out of a nondescript, gray overcast.
So I finally decided to see what this Chat GPT thing was all about. My discovery: "Amazeballs!"
Here's a conversation I find vastly entertaining...
My rope is getting shorter
and I fear I'm near the end.
My bridge is overloaded
it will surely break or bend.
The fabric of my being
my fears shall shortly rend,
Yet my life shall still continue
for I've found myself a friend.
"I love my wife because she calls me out whenever I'm wrong, corrects my faults, and keeps me on the right path." ...said no real man, ever.
That's not why a real man loves his wife. So why can't women figure this out? Maybe it's because the men can't even figure it out.