Thirty Days Has November

Last day. It always feels like I should have some big wrap-up 'ending' post, and I don't think I ever do. I don't feel like I covered myself in glory, but it's kind of like when halfway through a canoe trip I wonder why the hell I ever thought this was a good idea, and then at some further point it becomes clear that some things you just do to see if you can do them. You might not do them perfectly (especially if you're in a canoe with a crazy Austrian who periodically takes it into his head to see how well a canoe corners) and they might not change your life, but you commit, and you complete, and you feel a kind of quiet satisfaction, or it would be quiet if the thing itself didn't require you to GO ON TYPING EVERY DAY FOR A GODDAMNED MONTH.

Okay, clearly I'm still a little conflicted.

I am grateful beyond words to all of you for keeping me company through this bleak and bumpy space of days (Steph - you're so cute. Don't ever, ever apologize for commenting on the wrong post, or commenting twice, or commenting "blue clowns make the typewriter choose yogurt" or whatever. The fact that you're taking the time to comment while you're away from home makes me want to buy you a coffee, or tea, or spinach burrito or something - in fact, if I can figure out how to buy a gift card in Canada that works in the states, I will send you one in a Christmas card). I always worry that NaBloPoMo might turn out as a string of commentless, increasingly desperate posts, possibly with pathetic promises to give stuff away or flash my boobs as the month wears on. I consider you all pearls of great price.

I'm hoping we can get a Christmas tree tomorrow and start hauling out the Christmas boxes, although I think the door to the storage space is still choked with Halloween boxes - I always tell myself I'm going to get organized BEFORE December first, because if I wait to start on that day then nothing will actually happen until at least December fifth. I whiled away today in my reading chair with this book and this book and this book (well, those were the ones I read, I was also surrounded by piles of other books - I use one or two of them to prop up my ipad if the book is on that) and I tried to start this book and then I got very sleepy so I played Words With Friends and turned on some music and stood up and did jumping jacks, and then I sat back down and felt sleepy again, and within the space of about ten seconds went from the "no, I slept in, I can't possibly need more sleep, if I nap I'll just screw up my night, I'm going to finish this book today, I'll get up and do something and then come back and read" to an equally definitive "FUCK IT, I'm napping" and the bed was delicious and my white blanket felt like a cloud on top of me and I had the most blissful perfect nap of all time.

I played the piano three times last week. I worked out three times this week. I bought Advent calendars two weeks ago and just now I found them exactly where I thought I'd put them and laid them on the table for the kids to find in the morning. I'm not on top of everything by a long shot, but I'm not lying underneath it all, covered in dusty sheet music and limp strands of tinsel, either.

And that's something.