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The Little Book

Tonight, I decided to check the little book I have which tells me what I am supposed to be doing. I was alarmed by many things. Firstly, the date. Turns out that my daughter is 8 months old already. That’s so weird I can barely think about it. Secondly, this book of mine has stuff written in it. Written all OVER it. Stuff which you and I both know means I have to get out of my comfy pants and get dressed and go out in the world and DO STUFF. I have perfected my life so well up until this point that I even work from home, you guys. I do have to get dressed to do this work, which is a little unfortunate, but still. Alarm. That’s all I felt.

 

There are greater worries in the world, I know. Like Hurricane Sandy and all those scared people. And the war in Afghanistan which is still going on. And those new mums who have just given birth and are up every two hours feeding crying, needy babies. They don’t know if it’s day or night, those mamas, so I’ve been making soup for them.

 

However, that is the last time I check that little book.

The last.

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