Perspective

No crisis is so severe that it cannot be helped by spending an afternoon binge-shopping at the garden center, followed by baking cream biscuits to with dinner, then soaking for upwards of an hour in a scalding-hot bath filled with girly luxury products, rereading a favorite book.

The crisis is still there afterwards, but somehow it doesn't loom quite as imposingly. It has been downgraded to merely constant low-grade nausea and fear, instead of perpetual brink-of-hysteria. I need to remember this remedy, because something tells me I'll be needing it plenty over the next month or so.

(No, I can't talk about what's wrong, for legal reasons. Yes, it's bad. Yes, I'll probably live. No, it doesn't feel like that right now, though.)