Rough couple of days on this end. Jack's sick with what started out as another allergy-sufferer case, but now has shown his preference for running mild fever with it, and flaunting a nasty little cough that serves also to ensure he's up at least every hour and a half at night.
This cup, here, flows over. ... Though apparently not enough for me to abandon attempts to document my lack of time/energy/mental capacity/patience, and instead get few precious minutes of sleep. I'm a grumpy hypocrite.
My unspoken, but heart-felt (in a literal sense) prayer is simply that tomorrow's easier, and that Jack feels better.
"Small was feeling grim and grumpy. 'Good grief,"'said Large. 'What is the matter?' 'I'm grim and grumpy,' said little Small, "and I don't think that you love me at all.' 'Oh, Small,' said Large, 'grumpy or not, I'll always love you - no matter what.'"
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