. . . with the apartment hunting and other piles of unbloggable angst, I've been very stressed and tired. And I don't know whether it's because I'm too worn down to fight the feeling, or because this is exactly the kind of time when even a five-minute conversation with him would make everything seem sane and doable, but I really miss my dad. I always do, of course, and accept that I always will. But right now, it's very sharp and salient.
Music for this mood: Rosanne Cash, Black Cadillac