Do you ever have one of those days when you feel lonely, but at the same time you kind of hate people?

My daughter bought me The Book Thief for my birthday. I don't usually read this sort of thing because it's too hard but I have to because she's so proud of herself for getting it. She thinks it's funny that I'm crying my way through it. It's compelling also, but I'm lurching between the need to read more and the tears of horror.
It's very good. I don't recommend it, if you're anything like me.

Then an internet writer friend posted a poem from hospital, on facebook, where his wife is dying, unrecognisable from other photos I've seen of her, from chemo and steroids and god knows what else. He is counting sunrises, grateful for every last one he shares with her. I read it and drive to the library in my car that keeps cutting out, tears pouring down my face.

It's all too much, especially after the Book Thief.

I got exactly what I needed in the library. It's a small boon. Now I must face the task of making my kids something  they will eat.

I feel tired. Perhaps it's waking up at 6 to refill a hot water bottle for Olivia, who is sleeping under no cover because I washed her duvet cover and now it smells weird and feels wrong. No other cover of any sort in the house is comfy. So she's sleeping uncovered. Did I say this the other day? Apologies... but it's still waking me up early on the weekends.