among other things, the reason why there are plastic sharks in my sock drawer.

A heart so torn will bleed, and bleeding so congeals
That a darkened outer covering will block the touch that heals
A heart then stripped will bleed, and with bleeding fingers I
Begin to mend again a heart that otherwise would die
Because Allah has set no limit on how often I be broken
And no promise, no oath, has yet to me been spoken
To guarantee that strands of pain, twisted to a filament
Won’t lacerate the tender heart around which they are bent
But this guarantee, this oath, clearly has been made:
My Guardian Lord has promised me gardens in the shade
And promised me no burden greater than I may bear
So with this thread of hope, I make my small repairs
For a heart so torn will bleed, but mended so, no longer
And the wounds that made me bleed, only make me stronger.

Had HF’s family over for dinner. Made chicken kabobs. And gave every last person food poisoning, in varying degrees, with seven requiring the hospital. Myself included.