I'm stuffing my face with a $2 bag of tortilla chips and watching Copying Beethoven on Netflix.
I blame my period and the $350 bill I just got to pay for my husband's MRI. He finally met with a neurologist and they're recommending surgery. If there was any ice cream in the house, I'd have the carton resting on my chest, while shoveling scoops out with a soup spoon. But this bag of carbs will do the trick, filling up my pit of fear and ambiguity with something solid.
This is the end of My Day From Hell.
Thank the Lord for small favors. For a friend willing to take my class for a few minutes today while I dealt with a crisis. For my students who after noticing my glossy eyes forgave me for being a mother before a teacher. For my van for not running out of gas even though I drove in on "E" all day. For my son hugging me as soon as a walked in the door. For my husband for rubbing my shoulders, making me dinner, making the kids dinner, and putting them to bed early.
Sometimes the worst days bring out the best in the people.
These chips are too salty. I think I'll shut up the bag.