Yesterday I was not my best self. I was restless when I read my book, switched books, and it didn't help. I was cold when we went out for our walk. I wanted to call someone, but felt I'd overburdened all my friends. I only did one wholesome thing yesterday. I baked two quiches, one with chicken, onions and mushrooms, which we gobbled up last night, the other chicken, peppers and cheese, which I froze. I was able to do this because of the kindness of my daughter-in-law, who dropped two cartons of milk on our picnic table, as she was heading up to use my studio. They were delivered to her place. We had used the last of our milk for cereal that morning. My husband got himself in a dither and took it out on me, being grumpy and abrupt. I waited for an apology, but he was mightily self absorbed. I hugged my resentment like a baby to my chest. I couldn't let go. I was clinging to my righteousness. Never a good idea. At bedtime I asked for an apology and got it, but it was not freely given, and nothing was healed.
Today is a new day, and I believe I need a walk by myself to get my own head screwed on right. Wish me luck with that!
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