Breathe. Breathe Out. Breathe In. Breathe Out. Show Some Crack. Breathe In. Breathe Out.

I had a decent rhythm going yesterday. I awoke, I wrote, I walked the dog, I wrote some more, I met with District Superintendents and proposed yearlong professional development with state grants they are working on, I did a little shopping, I came home, I wrote some more, and then I went to make dinner.

When I heated up the spaghetti and meatballs, I checked under the sink to see if my repairs from last week were still in place. 

Um, that would be "No." It was a mess. Now, my sister Cynde's butt crack is much nicer than mine and Chitunga's, too, would be much more appealing, I'm sure. They've both had run-ins with the sink. 

I ran to Home Depot and found a part that I thought was sure to fix the problem. Of course, this only worsened the problem because that part fit like it should on one end, but then wouldn't fit over the attachment to the dishwasher on the other end. Chitunga came home when I had the kitchen torn apart and I gave him everything and said, "Go wash these in the tub or bathroom sink." The two of us then tried to reassemble the parts from memory, and this was a giant puzzle. We'd finally get everything fitted just right and, lo and behold, the last fastener would not catch to the bottom sink basis. 

Drawing board. Back to it. Home repair books from the shelf. YouTube videos. Frustration. I finally said, "Tunga, you get one more shot to see if you can get the damn locks to thread." 

He did...for now. But we're paranoid. We know the part we need and hope we can find it. It's good for now, but it totally put a "wrench" in the evening. When I settled, I began writing some more, but I'm not a good thinker when I'm frustrated.

And Glamis? Man, she loved running off with all the parts. But today's another day.