No sleep yet again. W’s got growing pains and I’ve got the equivalent, an aching that sometimes is profound. The humidity is rising again and with it comes less clarity. S asked me to tap my Dorothy shoes this morning, ruby slippers, and I said, “there’s no place like home” and it fit comfortably with the surroundings, but then Lance attacked Arlene and a bee bit M on the eye and before you know it, the denouement of playdate was thoroughly underway.
L had a restless night thinking about K and whether he is up to the challenge. I had a restless night thinking about fragments of conversations that have no context, beginnings that can’t find endings, middles that are on continuous loop – the Muse says it is all up to me – I feel like beating my head on a brick wall.