The myriad things

[image: Snow on screens, Tom Tucker, taken with film]
Getting my EPO from the special mail-order pharmacy - not there yet, but a little step just now, the phone call verifying that I will pay the co-pay, and that the delivery date works (it comes refrigerated). The end is not here, but there's a little satisfaction with each small step. Isn't that how a pilgrimage should be?
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Called up my friend to see how she's feeling and discuss our shared sense of being overwhelmed - the mess of carnivale (Christmas) to clean up. Much harder than it was to get it all out and decorate the house, because we want to organize it as we put it back. Ah, desire. Delusion.
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later - Swamped by practical tasks, but got two e-mails, one related this blog, perhaps hoping for my endorsement of a book (think of that), another from a high-school girl in the Phillipines wanting some information about my story. Answering these things rose to the top of the to-do list, even as they filled my center with a soft happiness. I am a writer. I still am, as hard as it is to fit it in. Just yesterday I read something snarky by a writer about how writers hate these requests. Like people get in the way of your work. Maybe that's a guy thing.
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If Wun would handle the mail every day as it comes in instead of, say, tossing it on the kitchen counter, Wun would never have a messy accumulation that takes 15 minutes to sort, and might result in your Rewards check being thrown away. This is one of about 10,000 good habits that it takes to keep a neat, clean life. I think it is probably too late to form all of them starting at age 67.
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Some days nothing will satisfy the cat.