I thought, very seriously, about not posting today. But I didn't post yesterday, and I really do try to write something every day. It isn't always something meaningful, but at least I put words to paper, so to speak.
When I looked at the number of postings for the month, though, my brain went into crisis mode. If I do not post today, the number of posts for the month of September will stand at 25. Twenty-five is a great number. I met Tim at the age of 25; I got a new license at 25; it is a square number; it is divisible by five. In my book, 25 is a number at which I could go into October feeling proud.
But If I do post today, I'll have 26 posts for September, a number that is lovely and even and twice the number 13; thirteen was one of my favorite years, ever. And so I sit here, torn between two numbers, knowing that Tara is going to laugh at the triviality of this whole post; that Gina will think I've gone a little off the deep end (understandably so, as the kitchen and bath, the whole house for that matter, are still in disarray); that anyone else will think Who gives a hoot?
I guess I just made my decision. In the end, it wasn't hard. Sometimes taking a leap is the best way to go.