I'm in deep trouble

Every day I bog down after a while and lose my native hue of resolution. (It gets sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought, very pale.)  But when I bog down in a blog, that's when I know I'm in deep trouble.  It's not that I don't have a lot to say.  Don't you find that every single thing  you do brings up entire links, also known as memories,  to an old-timer like me, that is, associations and flashes illuminating whatever you are doing? Some of them really are illuminating, revealing meanings you didn't know, hadn't thought of before.  

"Oh, I see," said the blind carpenter as he picked up his hammer and saw.

 Of course, that leads me to puns and to the first one I ever understood.  My uncle had a drugstore and there was a rack of postcards at the front for tourists.  One of them read, "I pine for yew, and balsam."  It took me a while, but I finally got it. i guess I was about six or seven, the same age when I got annoyed that an address could read "Winnipeg, Man" but not Winnipeg, Woman."  Unfair!

The nice thing about blogs, about a blog like mine, is that I can free-wheel and roam around and try to connect dots.  The bad thing is: I'm in deep trouble. Can anyone read this?