fed all the chooks and discovered new babies - black pekins and our special line of silkies; dealt with the small drama of Megs having to pay the excess on her car that she legally doesn't have to pay (otherwise she couldn't pick the car up from the repairer); rang my Dad to say happy 74th birthday; went to the office for 4 hours; came home and did an egg run; rang Desley and found out that Renee was in hospital having a c-section; spent an hour trying to make one weed sprayer out of three and didn't achieve anything except frustration; fixed a sprinkler head that was broken off the last time cattle got into the yard; cut back the overgrown honeysuckle; weeded the round garden for an hour (because I didn't have a sprayer); went to the bus; weeded for another two hours until it was too dark to see; found out that Renee had a little girl called Phoebe; came inside and fed the dog; cooked lasagne for tea and worried about G because I hadn't heard from him since 1pm and he was flying home from Melbourne then driving home from Brisbane; and now I'm so tired I can hardly keep my eyes open. My hips are aching from all the bending over, standing up, bending over, standing up, pulling rotten weeds.
I found a good book in the library a few weeks ago and I keep having to extend the borrowing time on it because I can't find time to have a good go at it. It explains a few things about how this sadness comes over me periodically and there have been a couple of a-ha moments as I've skimmed through it.
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