Can I have a do-over?

My first real day back started off well.  A good workout and yoga, a breakthrough at the office convincing folks in Bigastro and Pals (two of Spain’s slow cities) to allow Sarah and me visit, conduct some interviews and poke around, a clara with my brother-in-law, Rich (who I had just picked up at the airport) at the Mirador de la Venta overlooking the city.  And then things went way south.  I got into a freaky but, as it turns out, not serious accident that scared the bejeezus out of me and left the passenger side door with a big dent in it.  Luckily everyone is okay.  And I felt fine until I parked the car near the kids’ school and realized my hands were shaking so much I could barely turn the key in the car door to lock it.

And then, just as we were approaching home, C.C. announced that she had to puke.  “Hang in there, honey!” I said, passing her a ziploc bag.  She was not able to hang in there, but at least I got her the bag in time.

I got home, poured myself a glass of wine, and focused on dinner, homework, and bedtime.  And now, all I can muster is the energy to take to the bath, and then to my bed.  Tomorrow is another day.