I cannot believe how exhausted I am

Computer fast. Not that it is fast (but with our new ISP, it IS fast). But I need to go on a computer fast. It's starting to make me crazy, checking NOAA's water website every hour and, oh, while I'm here, looking for news articles (and, I know I've talked to Ann and Miguel about this, but WHY DO I READ THE COMMENTS ONLINE? Why do I read what a bunch of yahoos think about the Birds Point Spillway? So stupid. Me, I mean, for continuing to hit that button).

I am really exhausted. We had a school meeting tonight that went really well and made me like everything at school again (waxes and wanes). I wish I could say more but that would require mental energy to form the thoughts and words.

Read the girls' stories and by the time we were all done, Mike was tired, Leo was asleep, and Sophia had started to drift lying next to me on my bed. She dragged herself upstairs.

I have a very strong suspicion that my (and Mike's) anxiety about Cairo is leaking into my children's psyches. And while I need to know what's going on, I need to let it go enough to get things done and focus on what's going on here.

Mike is tied up at work and can't go down to Cairo right now, and this is producing more anxiety because, you know, it's his hometown and his parents' house and all that and here he is working on computers. So this prompted a quickly completed argument about my going down, but Leo makes so many things like that still impossible. My mom or Ann could pick the girls up from school, we could swing schedules around, but Leo doesn't do well for others for that length of time. Yet. If this were next year, we could. I even said, "well, I could take him down with me and help your mom pack things and move them" and he snapped back faster than fast: "but you can't put him on your back and swim to a boat."

He's right. And we're all on the edge. I'm not totally recovered from Triduum and Easter schedules and DID I MENTION IT'S RAINED ALL DAY? The puddle in the backyard is growing faster than the potatoes now. I need to bury more of the potatoes and it isn't going to happen in the rain. Maybe tomorrow: high of 68, breezy and clear. I'll put on my boots and go fix the garden. Do some labor with my back and my hands and let my head clear out all this junk that has started to rattle around. Do you ever get that? In a crisis or a semi-crisis, a red-alert stage in your head and you just can't shake all the words?

So now everyone in my house is asleep. And I'm going to join them because I cannot believe how physically exhausted I am. More tomorrow. And all week. Jan sent me a message that it's character building, and I'll misquote her: but I'm already a character.