The cat woke me early, and all hope of sleep was gone.
Why are the wee hours so damned dark?
Took the son to the bus stop, completely wrecked. But this is it: last week of school. Both have finals, and the daughter in particular is in a fine panic. We don't know why she feels the need to panic.
But we're holding out hope that Friday's promised Knickerbocker Glory will get her through.
(Why a Knickerbocker Glory? As if I know. She found the recipe in a cookbook and is obsessed. An ice cream sundae was a small thing to promise.)
En route home from leaving the son, I realized I felt far less distressed than I did in the early hours of morning when I lay awake. Is denial somehow easier in the cold light of day?
Go listen to some good music: "Come Back to the Living" from the album ...undone by The Lucy Show.