I looked up the hotel confirmation email. I had one hour left to cancel or forfeit. It had to be done. Canceled.
I’ve been dragging my feet on the plane and the car rental. But when you’re waiting to see if the thermometer hits 102 to tell you to run for a strep test–although we’re not there yet–um.
You don’t get on a plane, expose a ton of people, and then bring that to your 93-year-old mom, you just don’t.
I did knit all but the last two stitches of a raptor at the tops of the trees and felt great about getting something useful done.