Woke this morning on the couch in the sunroom. Slept so poorly that it undoubtedly affected my disposition all day since. Had to watch how I reacted to the kids, and also how sensitive I was to the things said by any one else in the immediate vicinity. It was the worst possible way to be and to spend the last day of Christmas break.
I looked outside, and the fog was thick and everywhere. It started in the yard, and spread in thick patches in all directions. I could relate. Nothing seemed clear, and less seemed relevant to try to figure out. This curly birch's branches against the fog reminded me of a painting I saw at MoMA last summer, but cannot remember what it was for the life of me. So I just sat there, and stared into the gray space, and the dark black and brown lines in the foreground were the random tangents in my mind.
Home safely, and car cleaned. A new year of work ahead. On the road again starting tomorrow.
