Harry Can't Hear So He Won't Know When I Get Into Bed And That It's So Late

Today I wasted approximately five hours re-doing my lupus page on Netscape Composer which simply didn't work, then trying to figure out what free webpage authoring program might work finding none. Then I downloaded something called TreePad which sounded okay but it wouldn't allow me to import my own pages and develop them. I'm out-priced by Dreamweaver and simply disgusted. I corrected all the html on my page and it still didn't work. I have no idea why. I found a new decent free ftp program rather than continue to try and reach the Voyager folks who simply don't answer. But I have nothing good to ftp. So this time it wasn't my computer, so I guess it's the web gods.
I did scan in new work, or pieces I improved. And I got my new drivers' license processed with a new photo in which I look about 65 with a nice double chin, fat face and grimace. Then I cleaned the bathroom so after this, I can happily take a hot bath and smell the fruity chemicals while I read.
I read a lot: books, newspapers and magazines. The newspaper cuts into my day substantially, and I read my books at every opportunity, mostly while I'm waiting for something or someone which happens a lot. I don't mind waiting though because I don't bother to read the whole book if I don't like it. I go on to read the middle and ends too, while I'm still in the beginning. I always want to know what happens and if I like the writing enough, I read the in-betweens. Otherwise, I just stop whenever I feel like it and go on to the next book I've stored under the bed behind my shoes. They're like little presents, still in their original bags. I save special bookmarks too--one from the gay Baptists that says something like "Everyone is blessed", another with the 23rd psalm, and others that are just colorful postcards. The bathrooms are filled with books, magazines, and catalogs. More lean against the sofa and lay on the dining room table. We just move them to the end of the table with the telephones and eat, or read our newspapers.
Yeah, we have all kinds of telephones too. Harry is hard-of-hearing and buys every new version of phone that's supposed to help people like him. None of them ever have so he yells into the phone, and garbles the messages from it. On our answering machine, I ask people to simply call me on my cell phone. One year, he had the flu, and that was it. His hearing, which hadn't been great, was suddenly almost kaput. Eventually, he got state-of-the-art hearing aids which do help, but in a crowd or a restaurant--or on the phone--he's at a loss. People don't have much patience for handicapped folks, and our health care system certainly doesn't care. Insurance doesn't cover hearing aids at all. We owe more now on the house because of that, but he can hear and our son is finishing college.
I sound resentful of our health care system and I am, but I'm content really. Just up too late and I have a lot to do before I can get to sleep.