The Morning After

ES and SO left for their return drive about 15 hours ago. The pain in my middle aged son's eyes in between naps, sorrow for the missed hours with the GK's and several other sets of etceteras have displaced the shadows of murder victims here in the new-to-me house. Is that a good thing? Processing. . . Plying therapy tools while I process. Easy does it.

Concurrently, I am attempting to stay on track with the projects I have been working here. Let's see. . . Where did I put those dreams? Dunno, but luckily I have the "To Do" list that grew out of those dreams. Dare I tackle phone calls to the contractors for the remodel of the out-building I have been imagining as an aeroponics lab? Internet contact hasn't been going well and my hearing issues make that phone contact downright frightening, but it seems to be the only way to reach the contractors. Oh, how I envy the folks who find phone contact simple. . . Sigh. . . It takes what it takes.

Still, facing my phone-a-phobia is far from the only item on the "To Do" list. Letting God lead the dance.