I am thinking this morning, as I sit here again at my laptop in the dark, while A. is still asleep and the cats are curled up somewhere nearby, that I need to do something new, or out of character, in order to give these entries a reason for continuing. But also I am thinking, on the heels of that thought, that the thought itself is misguided, or not exactly sound, as it arrives out of a restlessness, or worry, that I know better than to trust.