1. There is a perfect reflection of the curtains on the surface of my coffee. A monochrome lithograph in cream and light.
  2. I have a weird need to explain to my journal where I’ve been if it’s more than a couple days since I last wrote in it. This is either a mark of how truly I treat this practice as a conversation with God or it’s a holdover from my middle-school diary.
  3. She’s literally been sick for two months. Two ear infections, then hand, foot, and mouth, and now titanic poops with a mystery rash. Pretty sure she thinks our doctor is her third grandma.
  4. I hate that my reactions are so heavily mitigated by what others may think of me. It keeps me silent, confused, and afraid. But the world is rapidly running out of room for silence.
  5. I say something anyway. It’s not enough, but it’s something.
  6. Favor in the little things is often sweeter than in the big ones.
  7. We wait an hour and a half to hear the rash is nothing. Good news, but I’m exhausted from entertaining a two-year-old in a tiny room where she’s not allowed to touch anything cool.
  8. I forget I’m doing laundry three times–the same number as loads I have to do.
  9. The primary (sole?) competitor against anything fun in my life is sleep. Socialize or sleep? Eat or sleep? Write or sleep? Sex or sleep? I’m trying hard to upgrade from either/or to both/and, but rest is an addictive substance.
  10. 20 more sleeps.

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