(In which I write for five straight minutes and stop immediately when the timer goes DING)

Not to be histrionic, but occasionally I have trouble sleeping. I wouldn’t actually characterize it as insomnia, because I feel I lack the glamour of someone who careens around in the wee hours writing dark insights into her own psyche. Disappointingly, the only thing I can write about at this hour is my lack of creativity.

The summer is folding itself up and I feel like I watched the entire season on DVD. There’s the episode where we went to many, many weddings…a sort of montage. There’s the episode where C was gone for many days and I dabbled in mild insanity and what can only be described as a religious zealotry regarding exercise. And who could forget the one where I gathered with 10 women to watch Julia Roberts eat her way around the world? That one was a real hoot!

Anyhoo, sometimes it feels like life would be more palatable with a director’s commentary. Like, I could watch an event unfold and hear the omniscient insights of whoever decided to make it so. No no no – not like a god, or anything like that. Well, hell. If I could pick the director of my life, who would it be?

Who would yours be? (Just wanted to get that in before my time runs out)

Right now, the director of m

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