First, it's one of "those" mornings

I woke up in a rapidly cooling puddle, with a little boy whispering "I'm sorry".

I hauled the bedding down to the basement for the third time since the weather turned cold, only to find that the basement is full of sewerage. (Maybe related to the fact that they've had the street torn up all wekk and we've had to park outside the neighborhood?)

Of course, this means no clean bedding tonight...and no shower this morning.

Then, I checked in on Facebook, and a dear friend had posted something very profound:

Damiana Nightshade Every once in awhile I feel a little depressed, then I get out into the world and I see that my life ain't bad at all. Good Morning!

She's right, of course.

I remember that my dear friend is going into residential care in a week. I hear just then from a relative that another relative has reached the point where untested, experimental drugs sound like the best answer to a health problem. I think about the friend who lives with daily pain that can't be cured or even diagnosed. I think of the friends who are struggling in one way or another.

I realize that on the grand scale of things, a smelly basement, unwashed bedding, and no shower on a Friday morning are just not that big a deal. Thanks, Dame. Again.

I wonder where I left the plumber's card...