I could write about how this week went – the design sessions hastily planned, emails sent barely two days ahead, and the people who were required to rearrange their schedules at a moments’ notice to fly in.

I could write about how in the two sessions I was to be involved in (and, in fact, lead), only three of the eight participants showed up, and none of us knew exactly what we were supposed to be discussing, or even where to find the appropriate documentation.

I could write about the cheer that one man received when he walked in, carrying the wealth of information to close out one track, and the bemusement on his face because he had come for other reasons, and had never even received the email on these meetings we were in.

I could mention the fury that rose in my throat, pressing against my chest and exploding in my stomach when I learned that politics, once again, took precedence over getting work done in the most efficient way possible, and how my optimism for the success of this portion of the project crumbled into dust upon receiving that news.

I could pour out onto this page all my bitterness at the news, petty joy at my insistance that things continue as planned, relief at how we managed to minimize the amount of work to do within my two teams, frustration at how far we have yet to go, and worry that once again, we will find ourselves overburdened and surrounded by people who refuse to understand what ‘design is frozen’ really means.

But instead I will simply mention that today we slept, both of us exhausted from the too-long week before, rising between naps only to nibble at food and check email before curling back underneath blankets and purring cats to sink back into that half-asleep state where we spent most of the day.

And I’ll note that, despite our worries that the rain storm that has soaked this area all week had put our house on hold, when we drove out to see it, our fears were washed away. We have a roof. All is well.