Maybe you weren't datin' when you were in Dayton, wildchild, so it wasn't some of the furniture in your thinking house. ole joyful

ded, that was happening to me, but resolved when I shut down and restarted my laptop.

An old farmer drove to a neighbor's and knocked at the door. A boy, about 9, opened the door. The farmer asked, "Is your Dad home?" The boy replied, "No sir, he isn't; he went to town." The farmer said, "Well, is your Mother here?" The boy said, "No sir, she went to town with Dad." The farmer said, "How about your brother, Howard? Is he here?" The boy said, "No sir, He went with Mom and Dad." The rancher stood there for a few minutes, shifting from one foot to the other, and mumbling to himself. The boy said, "Is there anything I can do for you? I know where all the tools are, if you want to borrow one, or I can give dad a message." "Well," said the rancher uncomfortably, "I really wanted to talk to your Dad. It's about your brother Howard getting my daughter, Suzie, pregnant." The boy thought for a moment, "You would have to talk to Dad about that. I know he charges $500 for the bull and $50 for the hog, but I don't know how much he charges for Howard." Rusty

Rusty, sad but true. I see the HS students walking to and standing at the bus stops. Eyes are on their phones, they do not chat with each other that I've ever seen.