I was convinced that today was the first Friday in July, but found it to be the second. I was sure it was Saturday, but then it was Friday. The second Friday.
I woke up thinking I was in Georgia, but I was in CT (I'm still not ready to try and spell that).
I dressed thinking I still lived in the woods, but Todd reminded me that our bedroom window looks into ... the neighbor's bedroom window. Oops.
It is good to be here and to start what we hope to be our life in a permanent location (Deo gratias), but we are all a little disoriented. So, instead of a blog post weighing the responsibilities and gifts of a Roman Catholic using an Orthodoc curriculum; instead of a post contemplating the meaning of mortal sin; instead of wondering about the human condition, its application to 3-year-old angst, and the repercussions of sleeplessness on my NFP charts...
I give you, TS Eliot: