Well, that was funny. Stayed up too late last night having a sort of fraught conversation with Kevin re: some of the consequences of cancer treatment — nothing major, just the ripples that continue to be frustrating, esp. re: sex. Was very moody and weepy about it all.

Normally I can shrug that sort of thing off, but last week was somehow much busier than usual, and I was scheduled morning ’til night for several days in a row, and I didn’t get my usual restorative downtime that I think I need for maintaining stable equilibrium — the hour or two a day of puttering with garden, crafts, etc. So I was a little emotional, and kept him up talking about things ’til 1 a.m. for no good reason. (He was very patient because that’s how he rolls.)

All of which is fine (and amazingly, I have nothing scheduled that I have to do today, so I should be able to recuperate no problem and get back to my usual sunny self), but that’s not the funny bit.

The funny bit is that I woke up to an e-mailed invitation to an editor I respect greatly to write a short essay for excellent pay to an anthology she’s editing…on *exactly* the topic we were discussing last night.

Hi, universe. I see you.

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