Tired, Tired, Tired

We're just across the border into Illinois, headed for Kalamazoo, Michigan with a boat. Then we'll be turning back to Indiana to pick up another load.
I think I woke up every hour on the hour last night thinking, "Is it time to go yet, is it time to go?" So this evening I'm almost too tired to write my blog. We just got back to the truck from eating dinner, and pardon me, folks, but my bra has to come off. Sadly, it's too early to go to bed, so I'm going to have to tough it out for at least another hour (8 o'clock). Don't laugh---it's what old folks do best. Speaking of dinner, I think I told you Bill went to the doctor yesterday because his triglycerides (sugar) were way out of whack. The doctor tested him for diabetis (Did I spell that right? Nevermind, I'm so tired I don't guess it matters.) Anyway, back to dinner. We went into the restaurant, the waitress handed us the menus, and what did Bill do? He turned directly to the back page where all the deserts are listed. Boy, has he got a lot of work to do --- or not. I told him I would help him figure out what he can and cannot eat, but I will not allow him to make a nag out of me. I would kinda like for him to hang around this old world for a while yet, but it's up to him. He's a big boy. I did, however, manage to talk him into eating a baked potato. I thought he was going to poodle up and cry all over the waitress when she brought it to him. All I could think of to say to him was, "Be brave, little buckaroo." I'm afraid I wasn't much encouragement.
I'm so pooped, I hope I've made sense. If not, you can tell me about it tomorrow.
Good night.
Francie, Bill, Sammie Sue, and Ally Oops