Life has been way too busy this week.  Three grandkids in a row (four, if you count the oldest boy coming along to be Mr. Stepnfetchit). A week of rigorous lawn care, thanks to the 14-day notice.  Looks pretty good, I think, except for a few little mounds of sticks yet to be picked up.  Have to wait and see what the City thinks.  Long drive to take the grandsons home; late dinner with my daughter and her family. 

 Driving home, news on BBC announces that Susan Boyle has been taken to Priory clinic for nervous exhaustion after taking 2nd place in Britain’s Got Talent.  General Motors is taking out bankruptcy.  A lot of worra, worra, worra over U.S. troops withdrawing from Iraq; the Palestinians and Israelis are at it again (still? did they ever stop?); Obama’s latest speech is criticized.

My hands shake with exhaustion, and I realize that driving another fifty miles is probably not a good plan.  I pull into a rest area.  I’m not sure sleeping in such a place is a good idea, but neither is driving my vehicle up a telephone pole or tree, or over an embankment.  I lock the doors, stretch out on the seat as comfortably as I can.  This is one time being short is an advantage; Ford Rangers do not have a large seat.  I rearrange the safety belt ends so that they are not poke me, and catch a much needed forty winks.

I awake, not precisely rested, but at least coherent.  I start the truck, and turn the radio on.  The BBC is still blathering on about the same “news” that was being announced earlier.  The miles stretch out before me.  I cannot take any pictures; I’ve run out of battery in my camera.  Nothing really interesting anyway.
Arriving home at 4:30 am, I check my Triond account, play a little on a computer game, and head for bed.

 My dark mood continues next day after a few hours at work.  I water my plants, play a little on computer, read my Freinds’News on Triond.

  I am wrung out and empty, and my usual ploys of visiting my garden, watching videos, puttering around the house, or  playing games does not blot out the bitter realities of the world.

I know that part of my mood is born of fatigue; part from my usual summer battle of giving up caffienated, sugared drinks.  But part of it is from a feeling of utter helplessness in the face of a world gone mad, out of balance, out of tune. 

I will go spend some time with my guitar, some time in meditation and in sleep.  Perhaps tomorrow will bring brighter news, perhaps at least some small solution.