Tonight is a raw night. The night sky is the same pink as the snow, which I find faintly disturbing. I know intellectually that is just the haze of streetlights reflecting off the fine rain as it falls over the thick snow but still... it seems unnatural.
This weekend has been a complete wash. I don't feel like I've had any time off at all, thanks to all the tense waiting and awkwardness yesterday, a middle of the night vomiting session with the little person sharing our bed, and then more waiting today, becoming more and more angry as the afternoon drifted away. I eventually erupted with a poisonour impotent rage and now just have that exhausted and limply frustrated aftertaste.
The other day, before the batshit crazy hit the fan, I spent a cosy afternoon reading my posts from our trip to South Africa early this year while snow blew around outside and Swee'pea played with his blocks and pots and pans. It occurred to me that my blog used to be a lot better then, that it's just devolved into a bunch of self-pitying, navel-gazing bullshit. So I will point you to a warmer, sunnier time.
Photo of the day: Writer’s Block
8 hours ago