Oh dear, this is why I went away. There's too much going on. I'll be back (today) as soon as I can.

It's still today, just. I think I'm suffering withdrawal symptoms - withdrawal from my retreat, that is. I'm not full of angst, not really stressed, just busier than I was with several disparate things. I get through as much as I can and then I get sleepy-tired and stop for a while.

Today on a bus a man tripped over the wheels of a grocery cart belonging to a man sitting down. I don't know which one snarled first but suddenly they were like cats hissing at each other. When the tripping one moved away, the sitting one shoved the wheels of his buggy against his assailant's legs. (Who was the assailant?) Then a woman across the aisle told him to behave. Then another woman a few seats down snapped at someone - who? And here was this mini-war that had broken out in a bus, for heaven's sake. No, not for heaven's sake. Were they all stressed? Very strange.

Perhaps I am not engaged enough to get so peevish. Perhaps I am too ladylike to yell in public. Most of the time I don't get angry, not stomping, shouting angry. I get resentful which is not healthy either, because resentment creates a slow burn. I have a friend who unknowingly telegraphs her anger by saying, "it makes me laugh" and then she tells you what insult or injury she has sustained or bad behaviour she has witnessed that makes her laugh. Not ha ha, not jolly laughter, more like rueful - or resentful. Resentment is not healthy, But neither is skirmishing in a bus.

Well, so, there goes another day. Anon, anon. It will be tomorrow very soon.

I've told this story before but it bears repeating. Once upon a time a poor baker realized he couldn't go on and had to close his store because he had nothing left. As he and his wife were closing up for the night a poor beggar came along and asked for help. The baker and his wife took the poor soul in, shared what little food they had with him and gave him a warm place to sleep by the fire. In the morning the beggar thanked them as he left and said: "That which you do first you shall do all day." The baker and his wife opened the shop wondering what to do. They decided they would make cookies for a sick little girl down the street. They couldn't stop, and somehow they never ran out of ingredients. Customers came in, lured by the delicious aroma. They helped themselves and left the money on the counter since the baker and his wife were too busy making the cookies.. A grocer across the street looked at all this activity and the money flowing in. At the end of the day he asked the baker what had happened, and the baker explained that they had given a beggar supper and a bed for the night. The grocer hurried out to look for the beggar and invited him home for the night. He didn't do much - after all he was just a beggar - so he gave the poor fellow a crust of bread and some thin soup and a hard rug to sleep on. In the morning when the beggar left he said, "That which you do first you will do all day." The grocer and his wife hurried into their shop. "Quick," he said, "you sweep the floor and I'll count the money so we'll be ready for the customers." And that's what they did all day. They couldn't stop to serve anyone, so people left in disgust without buying anything.

I think of that all the time. Write first, do something else later. Be careful what you do.