Somedays aren't yours at all,
They come and go as if they're someone else's days,
They go and leave you behind someone else's face,
And it's harsher than yours,
And colder than yours.
Last week was not my week. My darling camera and my phone were stolen at the park. One of our chickens died. And, there was projectile vomit all over my house at one point.
I had a much longer post written discussing these events, and their poor timing. Where I complained and sulked, and talked about how I was having a hard time. But instead, I am going to leave it at this.
That I am searching for peace where I am. Drinking lots of tea, curled up by my heater. And trying very, very hard to be thankful for the many treasures that I have.
Caroline @ The Feminist Housewife