Is There a Place Where I Can Hide?

Sometimes, my days fall apart before they’ve ever begun. The coffeepot overflows, not once but twice. The children are all grumpy and . . . oh, joy, you don’t need the details. My e-mail is acting up, though, just as soon as I decide to send off queries and, without the necessary coffee, I am lost in horror. I must walk! I must . . . take a bath with lavender-scented Epsom salts and hide away from all parts of my life. Yoga will do me no good.



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