One day. Tomorrow.
I had some plans to get away to Chautauqua for a day (John Carroll, where I teach, is on a long week-end, so no class), but I've abandoned those. And I don't think the weather is going to cooperate as hoped for per the image above, so . . . an indoor retreat at home.
I am unraveling here. Yesterday I had a flat tire way over on the other side of Cleveland. This morning the tire store came up with ideas for $1,200 of repairs beyond the free tire replacement. (Which were ultimately deemed unnecessary, but not before I had completely flipped out.) This after $$$ of repairs during the last couple of months, and at the same time that the furnace guy was at my house installing a new panel, whatever that is ~ also not inexpensive.
At church, the day care director's anxiety over the Presbytery's indecision about its continued tenancy is spilling outward. There was correspondence about the closing to which to attend, and food gone bad to throw out, and two Bible studies to lead. I wrote most of my sermon at 7:00 am because I was up, so why not? . . . after having been wide awake at midnight when I realized that I had left the thing that covers the spare tire in the trunk behind at the gas station where someone had kindly changed my tire. (Got that?)
And then there is this stray cat I have been feeding for more than two weeks. I was freezing last night in our furnace-free house, so I was also awake worrying about her. Hoping that she makes it until her date with the shelter, and hoping that then she can be found.
Just too much.
I did tell my assistant today that as I was getting out of my car at church, I was thinking that I should get back in and start driving. I could call her from wherever I was at about 6:00 p.m. ~ Wisconsin, maybe?
But I didn't do it.
So: A day. Tomorrow.