I’m in my eleventh year of blogging. That’s 142 in Web Years!
In the early days my blog was a journal through grieving and postpartum depression. It’s interesting to go back through old posts and remember what a mess I was, but also how connected I was to myself.
I feel disconnected now. Unmoored. On autopilot. It’s nice to go back and remember a time when I felt things more deeply, even if those things were painful.
But let’s not talk about that now. Let’s be funny instead!
I found this post from the year I started working again. The kids were little, it was summer, and I worked from home. It was a bunch to juggle, but at some point I decided to take a break, despite the long list of All The Things still undone. Here’s what happened:
I felt like a half-chewed carcass in the desert, fighting for my life as five three-foot vultures circled around me, waiting for me to breath my last. They werenâ€™t even doing anything â€“ they literally were standing around in the living room while I laid (layed?) there reading.
To find out what happened next, you can read the whole post here.