Sport shoes, last 3 pairs purchased: Black with white soles.
Late, late bedtimes that don’t matter. It’s still summer.
So much screen time, family wide, and so little energy to counter it.
We’ll remember it as: The Summer He Gave Up His Comfort Object
There’s a line connecting responsibility with resentment. It’s straight like a see saw, one end up while the other is down. That line is almost never entirely level. But if you’re balancing on top, it’s easy to get confused about which thing is on which end. Are you closer to resentment or responsibility? Does it matter?
Meanwhile stuff gets done.
Ironing shirts can be used as a meditative practice, as long as it is wholly optional.
Disorder tends to be patterned. I can recognize patterns in my local disorder.
Writing is neither saving nor harming me.
If a friend calls me, I can be helpful. I rarely call any of my friends.
I usually feel guilty about 6 things at a time on average.
I often run the dishwasher at night; washing machine during the day.
My summer was chock full of professional reading. My dilemma of how to share my learning gracefully remains.
I have a new laptop that works like the old laptop. I feel grateful.
At the beginning of the summer I showed up as a feisty senior sprinter. I am now officially cranky, worn out and lack any motivation to perform with any intensity this weekend. (There, I said it!)
I am increasingly in awe of my youngest child’s physical feats. He is a marvel at what he does. Sometimes that can be a little hard to live with in one mind.
My oldest child just marched through a series of exams and is moving to a country he has never lived in. He’s got wings.
I’m very good at being practical.
Saying goodbye is not that hard. Admitting how I will miss you is another story.
Our refrigerator comes up to my hips. Our freezer is the size of mail slot. This does not generally present itself as a disadvantage.
I used to be an excellent correspondent. Now I am mediocre at best.
Folding and putting dry laundry away takes considerably longer than hanging it up wet.
As much as I am enjoying my 50’s, I regret the accompanying softness around the middle and the astounding physical effort required to resist it. I protest!
I’m more fearful of some things now that I am older: closed spaces, losing essential items (keys, phone, ID), injury through some fluke movement, a sudden draining of my savings through algorithmic error.
I could and certainly should spend more time on art and music.
Paper books are still more satisfying to have and hold than their electronic facsimiles.
I could be better organized but I’m not.