Cranky. Seriously cranky.

Work yesterday was just hard. A long tape filled with mumbling and hemming and hawing and backtracking, and little else accomplished. I am hoping for better today.

Last night I was on the receiving end of a well-meant comment that just made me livid. Instructive, because a couple of weeks ago I did the same thing to one of the sisters I visit teach, and she is currently not speaking to me, not returning my messages, and may have blocked me online.

Another week to go before the new guy has his preoperative consultation (a week from tomorrow). He is weary but upbeat. I am hopeful but tense.

I am in serious need of a full-body massage. And a good cry. My head and my heart are fully convinced that God is in charge of the universe and, more particularly, my little section of it. My neck and shoulders have not gotten the news. You could hang the Brooklyn Bridge from my left shoulder, and London Bridge from my right, and people would be perfectly safe.

It is a miracle, and completely incomprehensible to me, how I can be on red alert so much of the time and not have hypertension. One of many things for which I am grateful.

I have started binding off the shawlette. The designer specified a new-to-me bindoff, and it seemed insufficiently stretchy, so I tinked back and started over with the Russian bindoff, which is slow and fiddly [at least for me it is] but produces a superb edge.

Time to throw my lunch together, hop in the shower, and ease on down the road. Grabbing my Beausoleil CD for happy listening after I have listened to my Book of Mormon.

Thankfully, blessedly, this day will finish off with temple service, and some of that peace will follow me home.