I realize now I won't have the pandas done for the county fair. I am trying, but it's not happening. Not in the next two weeks, not if I want to have it look halfway decent. There is too much else to do. Too much running, too much folding, too much everything else, too many balls in the air, and people standing around, waiting til I have them halfway under control to fire another one at me. I don't know if I'll have anything done. I worked on the ring pillow last night, but I still have to stitch the back and who knows how long that will take. If I try really hard, I'll have the treasure box ready, but that's a big if.
I thought I could do this.
I feel like I let myself down.
I know it's not that important in the grand scheme of things. At work yesterday, I found out a former co-worker was killed by a man fleeing the police. He had baggies of marijuana in his car and hit her car. She was 25 years old, engaged; we looked at wedding dresses together, and chatted about our pitbulls, because it is an oddity for two young businesswomen to have pits. She died for a few ounces of pot. He was trying to avoid a possession charge, and now he's facing negligent homicide. Her biggest pet peeve was people who spelled her name wrong; how downright crappy that the paper misspelled her name in the article about her death? My boss was crying. What do you say to comfort someone when the loss is so pointless? So needless? Somehow saying she is in a better place feels trite--she wasn't in a bad place here, she was just living her life on a summer Sunday, driving her car. I put my head down and cried; no young, vibrant, lovely girl deserves to die like that. Or her mother to have to hear that her child is gone. Or the police officer who had to let them know, he didn't start out that day to see the end of someone's life and to see and hear the pain of the loss. HTB wonders why I am so adamant that one of us never leaves the house without me telling him that I love him. This is why.