Not working isn't working for me.

I haven't been writing and it's driving me crazy.

I think as long as I tell myself that I will write in the near future, I'll be OK. It was contemplating quitting that was causing me the dissonance. Once I made the affirmation that I will start writing again, the pressure seemed to ease.

I spend a lot of time on history podcasts--but at least I'm not watching TV. I've had a long prohibition about watching TV during the daytime. I'm holding to that. I read for an hour each night just before bed, and I want to do more than that. Perhaps start reading during the afternoons. I did that a lot when I was younger.

Fortunately, I'm going back to work next week, on Sundays and Mondays. I'm looking forward to it. I've already been going in twice a week to pick up the book lists, making an order, and then going in and putting books away. That can be incorporated into my two days at work, plus an afternoon.

Sabrina informed me she's been working for me for 10 years. Rather astounding.

I'm going to settle into a new routine soon, I'm sure.

My cardiologist says he doesn't need to see me until May, and for some reason that was reassuring. It's just the new normal, same as the old normal, plus a 2% chance of a reoccurrence. It's been seven months and I'm finally coming to the conclusion that not that much has changed. That something could happen at my age was always a given.

I've found a few new places to walk, and I've been doing some exploring.

Still waiting for word on BookBub. I'm trying not to get my hopes up. It was always a long shot.