A little less than thirty-six hours and we’ll be in 2019. This year passed in a flash, with a load of worries, surprises, adventures and misadventures. I read somewhere that as we get older, time seems to run faster. If it is so, then I am really old.
And yet, I’m getting used to this state of uncertainty. Sometimes I worry the stress and fatigue will have a bad effect on my health, but then everything seems to go smoothly. But I still have a lot of fun writing, and writing is paying the bills, and I’ve learned to let go of the rest – useless to worry about what you control, because you control it, useless to worry about what you do not control, because there’s nothing you can do about it.
I think I will rest for these 36 hours. Enough writing – I have submitted four stories to as many magazines in two days. Now I can rest.
Read a book, listen to some music, plan tomorrow night’s dinner for me and my brother. The countryside is silent and deserted, and there’s little to do – bring a little wood in for the fireplace, sketch some kind of menu for the celebration, and wait for 2019 to come around.
I hope it will bring good things for everybody.
Best wishes, ladies and gentlemen. And have fun.