I Don't Know.
Lately, our aging dog has decided that he would like to sleep half of the night on our front porch and half the night stretched out in our master bedroom. This basically means that he routinely wakes me up at 2:30 am or so to let him back in the house…and because he is the canine love of my life, I oblige. Rarely though am I able to fall back asleep quickly. Here’s a list of all the things I’m worrying about in the dead of night:
What do I need to do tomorrow at PJP? Even when I’m not physically at PJP, I’m mentally there. And that makes me either a shining example of an entrepreneur or a textbook example of poor leadership. I could probably argue a case for either viewpoint.
Why are our lease negotiations for our new space taking forever? Why is it so hard to find two hours of uninterrupted silence to respond back to the latest round of proposed lease changes?
And should we move at all? What does it mean to have a bigger location? How will PJP changes as she grows into something more? Am I achieving anything with my life? WHAT IS MY PURPOSE? (Gah.)
Why does Oprah seem like she always knows the answers to all of life’s big questions? Is that because I grew up in the 80s and 90s, or is it because she legitimately has sucked in all the knowledge from the Dalai Lama and Maya Angelou and now Oprah just knows?
What will I do when my sweet dog passes away? What will I do when my kids leave for college? What will I do when Jeanne retires from PJP? What will I do if they ever stop making Teddie’s Organic Rosehip Oil?
Did I remember to make lunch for the kids, check on the kittens, feed the outdoor cats, feed the indoor cats, fill up the food in the chicken coop, and set the dishwasher to run at midnight?
When is my next hair color appointment? It feels long overdue.
How do I feel about PJP turning five next week? Why do I feel meh about balloons and flowers as a means of celebration?
Why are Instastories a thing? Why am I terrible at them?
Why do the dog and Behind-the-Scenes Jason never snore in tandem?
