On the one hand, I guess it’s a good thing that “succeeding” or “winning” at NaNoWriMo wasn’t a priority for me this year, but more of a “throw something against the wall and see what sticks while knowing well in advance that I really, REALLY don’t have the time for it” thing. On the other hand, that also explains why I’m not pushing harder to keep up. It’s a bit of a self-fulfilling prophecy.
But I won’t be beating myself up over it too much. I have plenty of higher priority and more critical things to fit that bill if I need it. In addition, a bit more self awareness and self care is on the menu as I reach a certain age, or maybe even acquire a tiny bit of wisdom.
The Catholic school nuns living in the back of my head with their Puritan work ethic and guilt by the metric ton are getting a bit quieter. Or, more accurately, they’re being told where to shove it more often, sometimes with physiologically improbable instructions added in for fun.
Meanwhile…
I recently got a couple of these pill cases to use to organize my daily meds. Nothing fancy.
Something on the order of $1.99?
On the packaging were the following instructions.
“This product is neither child resistant…” That part I get. This product can and probably IS used to hold something that could harm children if taken improperly. That’s exactly why I wanted it – there are no children in the house and I needed this to replace old ones I have which were becoming a royal pain in the ass to use because they were child resistant.
But, “nor is it a toy”?
How pathetic is your childhood, how barren, how joyless, where THIS would be considered a toy?
My brain thinks these thoughts, asks these questions. Sorry!
We Love The Stars Too Fondly 