about the state of my house, the piles of unsorted papers and journals on my husband’s perch in the front hall, the jumble of shoes and boots blocking the doors, the drawer full of mittens (I spent hours finding and matching a few weeks ago) that has been rooted through so many times I can’t look at it without cringing, about the stuff I’m always moving to the basement and attic and the fact that one day I will have to figure out that to do with it but don’t want to. Ever.
about my children, mainly that the world treat them well (not just well but gloriously so) and when it doesn’t that they are equipped to overcome obstacles and disappointments with dignity and grace and come out the other end stronger and wiser.
about my marriage, about learning how to be more patient and open and kind and understanding and loving…
about the launching of my book, the cover, the subtitle (which they want to change), about asking for blurbs, about not getting blurbs, about print runs and earning back advances and reviews, both not getting them and getting them, and then if I get them whether they’ll be good and about not taking them so personally that they stifle me from writing another book, about the other book, whether there will be another one and whether it will sell and its launch….
about my health, my children’s and husband’s health, the health of all my family and friends, the general healthiness of the universe… because I read that worrying about health or anything for that matter can cause health problems and also possibly more messiness, marital tension and bad reviews.
about my hair.
about this post, that it reveals something about me that will make you… I don’t know. Forget it. I’m NOT going to worry about it… at least not today.
Happy New Year!