I am so tired. I have so much to say. I don't want to go to sleep because I want kid-free time to think and figure out how to say what needs to be said. But I'm toast.
The kid gets taken to lessons, bathed, entertained, fed, and napped. Together, we entertain others, eat berries, see a movie, eat popcorn, run a couple of errands.
But the vegetable stock is still going on the stove, four days later because I haven't had time to rescue it. It's probably really bad now. And the broccoli only made it to the freezer after I admonished D not to harvest unless he could process. This poor broccoli has been sitting on the counter in water for more than a day, flowering from the stress.
I'm so tired I want to crumble. I also want to connect with kindred spirits. I'm trying to remember my age, but I feel "on the verge" of something.
