Saturday, July 31, 1886 Drove with my father down town to do some errands. After I returned I put a new glass on Thompsons [Elaine?] which fell down a day or two ago and broke. This afternoon in cleaning the stalls of the horses with the hose I discovered the drain from them had become stopped and Tom and I had a most disagreeable job in getting it clear in the course of which I had to plunge into all sorts of disagreeables and scented myself up well. The nipple of the hose was lost and it seems as though every thing I do not personally look after goes to destruction. I am tired to death of all this care and worry and see no immediate release from it. Mary and Calvert came up with the Powell and now we have a family of ten. I can realize now my poor mothers labors and anxieties every summer with a house full of people and with limited resources. I saw it then and always grieved that I could not lighten her burdens more than I was able to. I am glad to go to my bed and sorry when the day comes again with all its troubles and perplexities.
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