My eyes itch from allergies.
I should have had two projects completed by now but don't . . . and it's been months.
For the first time in a very long time, someone I was supposed to be helping actually asked me how I was doing. I told him . . . both the good and the bad. But the telling of it only made the lonely part more real.
Today was not a "everyone wants a piece of me" day and yet I responded to people as though it were.
I have to go to meeting right now and I don't want to be nice.
One message late in the day redeemed much of the day for me . . . but I don't like that it could have that much power in my life.
My eyes still itch.