Everything feels off to me today. I stayed up too late last night reading, woke up too early, couldn't go back to sleep. I don't much like holidays anyway - the Fun Police telling me what I should be doing sets my teeth on edge - and the 4th of July is one of my least favorites. The fireworks drive my dogs insane, and the last few years my husband and I have spent our 4th of July evenings cuddling them and crooning that it's going to be okay. But I have some other things on my mind too.
One of them is actually a very good thing, objectively speaking, which doesn't mean that I subjectively feel great about it. We're going away for a week's vacation exactly a month from now, and within days of when we get back, my son will be moving to DC to get settled in and begin law school. Like I said, a really good thing, right? If only I didn't already miss him so much that I've taken to wandering around his room when he's not there, deriving comfort from the mess because it signifies his presence.
The other thing on my mind is NOT a good thing in any sense of the word. My father-in-law's health is failing. He's 91 years old, very thin, very weak. My husband and daughter and I were planning to spend this past weekend in Baltimore anyway, visiting him and my mother-in-law, but like millions of other people along the East Coast, they lost power in their home, rendering it unlivable. We ended up moving them, all their equipment, and my father-in-law's oxygen tank, to a hotel room, where they were imprisoned for two days until they got their power back on. They're back home now, but I'm sure they're not fully recovered yet from the experience. I know I'm not.
It's going to be a long, hot summer for me, I think. I could really use the cooling breeze of a book contract right about now.