Nothing could start off the New Year like a nude picture of Adam Levine. One just wished those overly manicured and painted hands weren't there. Still, there was that, one lucky girl (I presume).

I am making the giant step of seeing a physical therapist this Thursday on the hope that she can sort out the monstrosities in my mind that lend themselves to incessant insomnia , leading into constant fights with Mr. Astor (although the dear that he is seems to understand), the drinking problem (that as soon as I stopped, the insomnia returned with a vengeance), and the constant thought that I have no purpose on this earth anymore. We will see what she has to say.

Meanwhile, there is Mr. Levine.