I don’t have much for you today. Seems only fair to tell you that right up front.
The Girl is feeling better, and the rest of us have escaped the virus so far. (I assume nothing.) She was home from school Monday and Tuesday, which has thrown me off any kind of schedule (I’m pretty sure the school nurse and I were both duped on Tuesday, so score one for the 7 year old). Plus, I’m working on a website for our business, which means using a whole other side of my brain than I’m used to. Think, cobwebs. But the work is good for me, and it feels nice to contribute something different from the usual. And to have a shiny new excuse for getting behind on the laundry.
Add to all of that this persistent insomnia and a full moon, and it’s pretty much a perfect storm. This week feels strange, the days impossible to keep straight, made up as they are of small disparate pieces that don’t fit together as a whole. Like pieces of five puzzles tossed into one box.
So I sift through the days to pick out what’s good, like looking for beach glass in the sand, and hope to end up with enough to close my fingers around, a handful of truth or sweetness. Substance. Something I can measure.
Something smooth and cool and solid to keep in my pocket.