circles

8:30am and doing some dishes before the weeWeir and I cycle to nursery.

It's interesting how quickly I've fallen into the pattern of getting up after 7am, getting breakfast organised and delivering the weeWeir, going to work, coming home, bedtime and then more work until late.

It's not actually interesting. It's more alarming that this is all just okay. Doing what's needed to get through present circumstances is one thing, but blithely accepting this is the only way it can be can't be good.

Passive stumbling into habits that aren't helpful, but are equally essential for survival. There's tension here. There's also grace here.

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I helped Dad move some things out of my Grandad's house yesterday. There were coins down the back of the sofa. Anyone for a shilling?