A letter to myself

If talking to yourself is a sign of mental illness, what about writing to yourself? Either way, I’m looking forward to the next month. It’s more than Cheryl can say. The only thing Cheryl likes about this month is it’s the last of her pregnancy – and my heart goes out to her. She has handled all of the discomfort with grace, something I couldn’t equal if I were here (thankfully, barring a miracle I will never to).

Sometime this month I am going to meet my first child – something I have waited almost 9 months to do. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve always thought I’d have children eventually, but I didn’t really think about it seriously until we found out Cheryl was pregnant. In some ways it still hasn’t sunk in – and it probably won’t until the day comes – the one day this month that I am not looking forward to. Oh, I’m looking forward to seeing my child for the first time, but I’m a little worried about what it will take out of Cheryl getting to that point.

I’m sure it will all be something to remember. Who knows, maybe I’ll be able to look back and say it wasn’t as bad as I thought.

I make a lousy optimist.

But what?

I’m tired, but I don’t want to go to bed.

I want to do something, but I’m too tired to do anything.

I want to be creative, but wanting is not enough.

I like my job, but it makes me feel unapretiated.

I like to play tennis, but it is too hard on my knees.

I want to go on a bike tour of north g-ville, but I fear that no one wants to go with me.

I like cold weather, but I live in Florida.

I like Florida, but it rarely has cold weather.

I like to use my computer, but I hate to type.

I want to take more pictures, but developing them is too expensive.

I want to be in better shape, but I hate to work out.

I need to see a dentist, but I keep putting off making the appointment.

I want to make music, but I’m terrible at it.

I would like to drive fast, but I fear the consequences.

I want to express myself, but I fear what others will think.

I felt that Al was a pain in the ass, but I miss him dearly.

I want to continue, but I have to go to bed.