Tomorrow, I don’t have to rise at 5:30 to be someone for somebody else.

Tomorrow, I can do laundry, neaten my storage cubbies, and water my succulents.

Tomorrow, I can stroll down to the Community Garden, pick lettuce, and take sentimental pictures of the weeping willows.

Tomorrow, I can drive north of Rio Vista to find the farm with fresh eggs.

Tomorrow, I can throw out the circulars, junk mail, and paper copies of statements that I get online.

Tomorrow, I can answer moderately significant e-mail, decide if I really need to drive two hours each way for physical therapy, and examine the requirements for registering my car in California.

But that’s tomorrow.

Tonight, I will finish this delicious locally-grown pear; wash the dishes; then get into a pair of cozy pajamas.  I’ll close the windows against the chill of an autumn night on the banks of the San Joaquin.  I’ll open my tablet and summon the novel that I’m reading.  I’ll snuggle under my quilt and lean against my pillows.  I’ll pause, gaze around my two-hundred square foot house, and smile at the incredible gift of #mytinylife.

It’s the nineteenth day of the fifty-seventh month of My Year Without Complaining. Life continues.

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