I woke up feeling sick, I’ve had accident after accident at work, I’ve gotten all sorts of bad news, and my shoulders hurt from physiotherapy. I’ve been waiting by my phone all day to have someone text me saying “hey, it’s okay that you’re having a bad day, I’m here to make it better,” which of course didn’t happen because I’ve been steadfastly telling everyone “no I’m totally fine, don’t worry about me” when they ask if something is wrong. Because really, nothing is wrong, it’s just one of those days.
I got home, lay on my bed, stared at the ceiling and tried to ignore the pain in my shoulder. And then I thought “this is no way to spend a Friday night.” So I heaved myself off the bed, admired my plants for a bit, then got downstairs to make a cup of tea, and provide the promised pictures of my Rye Socks.
And somehow the simple act of boiling water and taking nice pictures of some wool on sticks helped. It doesn’t quite make up for the rest of the day, but it’s make it just that tiny bit better.
And that’s all counts.