There’s been so many things running through my head lately that I’ve started even jotting them down on my ‘things to do’ list. Pathetic, I know, yet somehow reassuring that one day, when life settles down a little, I’ve got a few great topics to discuss. They range from me actually starting to write my book (though I don’t think I’ll end up finishing NaNoWriMo as I had hoped) to how excited I am about the holidays, to various mid-day thoughts that involve "deep" thoughts on whether or not terms of endearment are also recycled with new relationships. Regardless, somewhere herein this makes sense in my little type-a head, and for that – and for a lot of other reasons – I’m content.

Fall has finally come to Atlanta, at least in the evening. It’s nearly pitch black at 5:30, when normal people leave work and when I begin wishing my workload was more the range of normal those aforementioned ‘normal’ people. I’ve gotten into the routine of the season, when karate is not attended as much as I’d hope, though the intention is there. When cooking dinner happens a few days a week, with delightful dinners on the town alternating with the not-so-delightful leftovers the other days. When I’ve gotten really used to being ‘on the wagon’, and am surprised how easy it is to not drink (and, to that end, to stick to a diet when not drinking) when you finally put your mind to it. And as I sit here, flanked by my adorable animals who are lazily contorting their kitten-bodies into flexible, curled-up-ball shapes while they nap on the couch, my roommate switching between playing online poker and watching Las Vegas (obsessed, perhaps!) and the first fire of the season is burning in my fireplace. I realize that things are progressing. Life is going on, after the sadness and complications and surprises and stress and all the things I spend too much time concentrating on, are really the small things that we use as a crutch because, too often, it’s easier to fixate on what’s not perfect than the few things that are.

Like my new flannel sheets.
Like the housekeeper coming on Friday.
Like being out of debt.
Like being able to be generous to loved ones this Christmas.
Like knowing that, after it all and despite the current and before the rest, it’s all looking up.

And that sometimes, you don’t need the surprises and the flowers and the candy and the new clothes and the clean house and the good dinner. Because sometimes, all it takes to be content is a night at home with your pets, your roommate, and a roaring fire.

(Though, if anyone’s asking, there’s nothing wrong with flowers…)

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