Christmas season is inching closer. I’m going to spend mine at home, with my immediate family: as in, my partner and dog. No travelling. I didn’t make the decision based on the omicron variant, even though that would probably sound more noble than the truth: I can’t afford to go as far as Prince Edward Island at a time like the holidays, and my nervous system feels shredded after the litany of delights that has been my book launching. I’m hoping melatonin-aided sleep, meditation, and routine will straighten out what got battered and bendy in the last few months. I’m hoping my more major problems, which are essentially all cruel manifestations of capitalism, don’t catch up with me until I’m strong again.
© 2024 Tara McGowan-Ross
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