I'm supposed to write everyday as a way of re-honing my supposed skills (I use the term loosely.) But I started off the day with a) a crying little boy, and b) by reading the news.
Having my little angel-poof cry himself to sleep at 3 a.m. because he doesn't feel well is distressful enough, given that he's autistic and can't tell me what the hell is wrong with him but reading the news, hoo boy, that'll give me writer's constipation faster than a block of cheese with a side of Pepto Bismol.
Crop failures. Inflation. War. Joy.