This seems to be my week for contingent good news. Wait-listed to a residency, an essay accepted to a book that isn't actually sold to a press yet (but probably will be soon), the department reviewing its plans for possibly promoting me next spring (Clinical Assistant to Clinical Associate, if all goes well) -- it's all conditionally lovely, but vague and indefinite. Ah well -- perhaps this is the universe telling me it really is time to look into meditation and Zen practices of acceptance of what is. Or else the universe is telling me to stop thinking about what I can't control and get my butt back to the writing chair. I'm pretty sure it's one of those.