Please remind me not to spend an hour reading emails from my early twenties when life was dramatic and I was poetic. It will only end with me suddenly looking up amidst the fog of memory and realizing that I haven’t written a word of the thing I was supposed to write, and it’s not as if I have very much time to work these days anyway, since the cat has trained me exquisitely well to scratch the sides of her head every time she wakes up from a nap, which is approximately fifty times a day.

Thank you.