I was wrestling with my thoughts and my mood this morning, which, in turn, meant I was wrestling with perspective and viewpoint. I did not reach my target weight despite an aggressive effort, and I did not sleep well. I have every reason to expect to find the toilet full of urine that a 22-year-old "med student "can't seem to flush. Things are not going the way I want them to, and so my emotions and ego go to a place of disappointment, anger, and resentment. How does that change anything? It certainly does me no good. It won't gain me lost sheep, shave another pound or even flush the toilet for an adult who professes gratitude yet exhibits disregard. This is all what it is. I can change very little beyond my response. The weight will come off, sleep will happen, and at a minimum, he will be moving out in June. That's my response. I read a passage today about thoughts being chaotic, random, and ever-changing, yet we hold on to one and respond to it without keeping our broader perspectives. It was well-timed and gave me cause to reflect, which rippled throughout my day, as did a separate passage about being honest with yourself about your true nature and character. That came into play as tensions flared over the fact that my morning anticipation had been realized—the flushing one. Then the walk plans with Jen pivoted to include the dog. He's a very challenging dog to walk, and I find it distracting, frustrating and embarrassing. It changes the experience. I had spent the morning managing the repairs on the PT cruiser for Lauren and my mom, and things went very well. There was a moment, though, when it seemed the body shop would not work on it because it was designated "salvage" by the insurance company. Fortunately, I was able to convey the facts, and they fully understood the situation. We will hopefully get more good news tomorrow. Once that was done, I was getting my mom's appointments managed before we hiked. Jen and I worked on the review and revision of our Trust, wills and all that fun stuff before bed.