Father's Day, 2021. The last before they're adults. The last I'll likely hear any praise or recognition from their mother. She sent me a short poem she made up and recorded. It was thoughtful and appreciated but sad too, for many reasons. I'm still wresting with finding balance in my daly routines. I blew up at Tommy, again, Saturday am when taking him to drop off for Catalina trip. Simply because the snarky comments have broken me. And have broken me down. Yet he wrote me a thought note and called to touch base too. It's a bit crazy making but then again what isn't any more. I managed to spend my day doing little of anything for a change and said no to requests too. It felt good. Still, little things like having to battle June bugs or adding propane refills to my to-do list irritate me far more than nis reasonable, and cancelling my "Geoff's 60th weak" time off plans because I know it'll be consumed with addressing the needs of others feels like concession to a losing battle. In so many ways, I'm just in a sort of zombie state. I am filling time, not using time. I'm drifting.