Columnist Sally Friedman gives readers a look at her world.
It was going to be one of those nights.
I’d been to my book group, so my mind was whirling with lingering ideas and interpretations we’d discussed.
I’d been careful to drink decaf coffee, and to avoid a sugar high by eating only one slice, well, maybe one and half slices, of the delicious coffee cake our hostess served.
But there I was at 1 a.m., feeling a bit too wired to settle into anything approaching slumber. So of course I began reviewing everything that was wrong in my life, in the lives of those I love, in the country and in the world. That was good for some truly sleepless tossing.
Had we picked the totally wrong vacation destination? What were we thinking? Would the little leak in the kitchen sink turn into a geyser? Would the daughter get that promotion she deserved? And would Carly’s soccer team win the championship?
“Stop worrying!” my mind told my body. “Think happy thoughts.”
And for the life of…
