Between the blasts (well, not to me personally), the failed experiments, and the thunderstorms, this day has surely gone haywired.

But there are always the little things, you know, that sort of form their compensating effect. The sweet smell of fresh laundry --not mine, I happened to walk by the laundry room; a phone call from a loyal and caring friend who despite of suffering under a plethora of life crises still takes the time and effort to take care of you[r sister] --you see, even the most pessimist of the goodnest of humanity would take a sudden change of heart; a chance to finish work just in time for a visit to the little chappel to cool it all down.

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London, we mourn for your people.