One day you're flying, or, at least, filming clips of goats flying down a hillside and the next, you're barely tottering out there, wondering why sleep is elusive, the day - so rushed, the peace so hard to come by.
To say nothing of the weather.
Brilliant cold days -- I'm fine with those. Dark nippy days when the snow sort of falls but sort of does not -- eh.
Sleep was interrupted (see previous post -- a version of that), the sniffles reach their peak of drippiness, the hours seems too long.
On the upside, even a little snow is pretty and, in a Wisconsin winter, better than no snow at all.
And the cloud cover is surely receding and the work week will soon be over and Ed tells me that he will try very hard to keep Isis off my side of the bed.
We never make it to Paul's today and I have to work late and tomorrow promises to be a crazy kind of day, starting early, ending late...
Ed and I come into the farmhouse this evening and he says -- it's so good that the house isn't drafty at all...
After that, it's all downhill. And warm.