A Little List From St. Nick's Day (or, Time Flies When You're Having a Nervous Breakdown)

What I did today:

Woke up on couch and wondered briefly where the heck I was.

Reminded son to check his shoes for St. Nicholas' Day offerings.

Reread son's letter to St. Nicholas, dwelling on his request for "unlimited hugs from Mommy."

Watched numbly as email (not counting that filed in various topical folders) climbed to 1500s. Reminded self that, though rare and horrifying, not unprecedented.

Received advertisement I can't accept.

Received rejection from magazine that held my short story for months and months and months.

Received great quantities of chocolate from husband, friends and family who have been listening to my screams and pitiful sobs for the last few days.

Scrubbed down concrete-dust-infested kitchen in manner of woman hearing that lepers, plague victims, or other perfectly good-hearted but terrifyingly contagious people have been utilizing dishes, stove, etc.

Paid fifty cents to put sofa cushions in dryer in effort to de-concrete-dust-infest them, since threw out washing instructions for them (assuming ever had same) long ago.

Unpacked a few more boxes of books.

Wondered fleetingly what place used to look like with books on shelves and bedrooms not full of stacks of heavy boxes teetering in manner that would be dangerous (could fall and destroy sleepers with bit of help from sudden earthquake, vigorous rolling-over in bed by sleeper, etc.) if bedrooms were not too horribly dusty to sleep in.
 

What I didn't do today:

Allowed myself to feel more than that one inevitable pang -- more of a wrench, really -- about the rejection.

Answer or delete any email.

Get anywhere near the amount of work I wanted to done.

Get anywhere near the amount of work I reasonably thought I might done.

Read.

Write.

Rest.

Think.