This Samsara we live in

The boys went on a school trip to a safari park.
I picked them up at 6, after what must have been a long, cold and wet day.

At home, the movement of merde from the main house to my art studio is slowly progressing.

Pretty soon we'll have a minimalist house [albeit with the cluttered chaos merely moved to a different location, waiting to be sorted post-holiday: cue Twilight Zone score].
But as long as our house-swapping guests are content, then so shall we be.

The company doctor awaits in the morning.
I sleep very little.
The boys wake up almost every night, and I have to wait until my need for sleep finally overpowers my physical pain levels, roughly around 1 a.m.

The pain has gotten worse over the last few months - loosely described as a helluva flu mixed with 12 rounds in the ring with Muhammad Ali (he won).

Could years and years and years of stress have done this to me?
I'm afraid I already know the answer, which makes me cry instantly.
To find one's way back from the edge - that is the tough part.


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