a warren of worries.
I’m tip-toeing over sleeping worries tonight. They’re lost and apparently in need of rest, so they’ve decided to camp out on my living room floor.
They arrived early this morning, camouflaged in little rabbit costumes—knowing full-well that I’d never shut the door on an unexpected, traveling warren. But once they were inside and I politely offered them some carrots, they disrobed in a dramatic fashion. they yelled, “AH HA! we’ve got you” and they had and I was stuck.
So for these last fourteen-ish hours I’ve dodged their little bites and snubbed my nose at their little noses and refused to feed them them tears they crave. And when the tricky one cornered me in the kitchen and made sad faces and said she just wanted to be friends, I heard my brain speak words like “maybe” and “perhaps” and “it might not be so bad”; but my clever heart was on to that sad-faced worry and I felt her quicken—for that’s our special signal—and I looked that sad-faced worry in the eyes and said “no” before I poked her in the nose.
Once the trickiest of the worries had been defeated in a rather anti-climactic way, the worry tribe thought maybe they didn’t have the right house after all.
So being the good hostess that I am, I offered them a few sips of my favorite whiskey and and agreed to let them rest awhile.
So tonight I’m stepping over little worry landmines. I’m taking my evening slow.
Tomorrow will be different. They’ll find someplace else to go.
—this post was grown on the gram.