Low, again.

Today was a particularly trying day at Special Olympics cross-country practice. It should be a lesson in cultivating patience, but I fail a great deal more than I succeed. The commute home from the South Bay wasn't pleasant either.

I walked in the door of Casa del Grant and immediately tripped and fell into an uneasy afternoon nap, despite the heat. I woke up sweaty and confused and proceeded to return the some calls and emails which probably wasn't the best timing. Apologies would begin here if I even knew how and where to start.

Somewhere mid-dinner Steven picked an argument which sent me into my closet for a two hour tidy. It's a nice sized closet complete with chair and lamp in there and now I am considering installing a bed and big fuck-off lock. It's my one space that has no yarn, books in residence or spinning equipment; it's also the only place that is all mine.

Today has been difficult in a lot of ways; the exact opposite of seven days ago. Steven is now in bed and now I am going to have some roasted peaches with some cream, spin some lovely Fat Cat merino in happy colors and take some chemicals that will make this sleep long and dreamless. Here's hoping for a better day for all of us tomorrow.

And then, post-whine; there's this genuine, unfiltered tragedy:
I have been thinking for a while of putting up some knit or spun items for longtime readers to claim as their own. (Remember the brouhaha over caramels last year? That was fantastic.) While that is still under review, I will be making something for the Nielsen family to add to their auction.

Something to be delighted about: The Fantastically Talented Master Aiden has a splendid ear! Dang, some doctors are also great artists.