Today

I wanted to post about how Boy cut his hand open and had to get stitches (he's fine, I promise) and then because he had to keep it dry I made a scene out of washing him in the shower, and how lovely it was and how service is something I think I could quite get off on, and also about how beautiful the Sun today was and how it felt lovely to be around my friends and outside and grilling, even if it meant that I have a million work that I need to get done... but then late night happened and a good friend of mine and the Boy had a spat due to silly meeting-ness, and I cheerfully plonked myself right in the middle even though they both very smartly told me not to, and now I have made her mad at me as well as him, and I feel guilty and in need of comfort but one cannot easily take comfort when guilty, especially not from one of the people one feels guilty about.
So today was lovely until the end, which is horrid. Boy and I long ago figured out that it is the end that counts, in a day. Soon he will come upstairs and we will cuddle and distract eachother, but I think it will be bittersweet at best.
I am sad that this day had to have a horrible end.
It was a beautiful day, before that.