It’s been a hell of a week.
I’m usually a pretty appreciative person and that’s with good reason, because I have a pretty cushy and happy life. I mean, I have fantastic friends, who rush to tell me what a great writer I am when I lose my favourite writing gig. And a wonderful husband, who is gentle and supportive when you smash the van into the side of your neighbour’s parked car. And sweet kids, who lead you away from the sink full of dishes when they find you sobbing into the suds because you’ve pushed yourself physically too far, then make you a cup of tea and a plate of strawberries and crackers in the shape of a happy face. And kids who don’t complain one bit when they have to submit to a barrage of tests and possible new medical issues, or the daily turning of the crank inside the roof of their mouth that is widening their jaw. And extended family who tell you they love the Easter dinner, even when you forgot to put salt in the pie crust and the turkey went a little too far to the crispy side. And clients who are understanding when things just get away from you and you don’t finish their stuff on time and feel totally unprofessional and stupid.
But still – a hell of a week.