In eight days, it will be that long since I’ve written anything substantial.
That’s a long time to tread water without a shore in sight.
Heck, at this point, I’d cry over a leaky dinghy bobbing by.
The fact that I’m still relatively coherent after this amount of fruitless splashing about is a tiny miracle on its own.
So, today, let’s celebrate the wee-miracles of our crazy lives (and try not to imagine how scary we’d be without them.)