We’re still recovering from the Preschool Plague of the century, here, and “recovering” is a nice way to say that we’re no longer going through two boxes of tissues a day, and only one person is spontaneously weeping from misery (I’ll let you guess who, and yes, it may be me). There’s a lot of hacking and coughing still going on. It’s really quite obnoxious.
I found this little thought while going through some old magazines headed for the recycling bin. The irony of decluttering while paging through an issue of Real Simple is not lost on me, by the way. I think my friends who are struggling with some stress right now might like it. The quote, I mean, not Real Simple. My writer friends will totally like it, and that’s not just because it’s all deep and stuff. I am not feeling very deep today. Maybe knee-deep in Benadryl, but that’s not so good to take when you’re the primary caregiver of children for the greater part of the daylight hours.
Holy, cow, I’m starting to sound like Andy Rooney.
I hope to be back to you later in the week with something more substantial than, “Hey, we’re a snotty mess up in here!” Until then, I leave you with this:
“You say grace before meals.
But I say grace before the play and the opera,
And grace before the concert and the pantomime,
And grace before I open a book,
And grace before sketching, painting,
Swimming, fencing, boxing, walking, playing, dancing;
And grace before I dip the pen in the ink.”
–G. K. Chesterton, From an Early Notebook (mid-1890s)
You think on that one for awhile. I’ll see you soon.
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