We have a piece of furniture that’s missing its bolts to put it together and it is the WORST. Apparently the bolts aren’t “bolts,” which is one of the reasons why we’re having a hard time figuring out where to get replacements. They’re called “furniture fasteners”
Eye roll.
I know we’ll find what we need. Either through just going through our own stuff, contacting West Elm who made the table, or finding a generic replacement out there somewhere.
Had a great therapy session today. I talked about how I feel a bit (a lot) silly, I realized today, that I wish my new book was an instant success and bestseller. And here’s the thing: rationally I know the time and work that will be necessary to get it where I want to go, sales-wise (namely, I need to get the next two books written). Truly. I know that. I really, really do. And that’s why it’s all the more frustrating and embarrassing to realize that even though I know all that, I still wanted it to sell thousands of copies in its first week and be an instant smash hit that solves all the money problems I could ever dream of.
The fantasy.
Or, as my therapist put it: I worked so hard on that book, poured so much of myself into it, I wish to receive that much back in return for it. And more.
So, today was an exercise in realizing that I’m probably going to feel that way about every single book I write…and that’s normal. Perfectly, irrationally normal, and I just need to accept that. Because when I accept that, it makes me feel less ashamed of myself, and I can kind of just feel that way for a bit and then move onto writing the next book.
Which I am.
Night night.