Yellow is not my favourite colour.

Today, every teeny smidgeon of ability to point a camera and obtain a focussed image, desserted me.

Even the forsythia, yesterday so cheerful against the brilliant sky, looked frayed round the edges and careworn. (And blew!)

Maybe it's me.

Insomnia can be a bit wearing at times. This morning, in the wee hours, I didn't rein in my thoughts terribly well regarding the boundaries of the Universe. This is never good use of thinking time, in my experience.
I tend to be a worrier.
Having imagined a cul de sac (with a sign, obviously) and rejected that as silly, I thought about a cliff edge, with a sheer drop... Ultimately decided Douglas Adams could be right about The Restaurant.

I've tried every remedy under the sun, and if I don't resort to a sledgehammer (applied to the head) soon, I suspect Himself might.
Here's to a better one tonight!