I’ve been lying awake at night, after my first sleep, thinking over the past annus horribilis and going on—back—over my whole life. My perspective is changing, not for the better. I used to be a glass-half-full sort of person but the contents are scanty now, and what I’m seeing are dregs and sediment. Have I seen my life through rose-coloured glasses, or am I only now seeing it as It really was?

I had a meltdown these past several months, as some of you may know. I missed the Christmas deadline for most of my letters. (I wrote my Christmas generic letter three times trying to produce a less plaintive message.) We were separated from family and friends, as many of us have been the last 10 months, and I am becoming very dependent on Matt, which is a good thing. He’s much nicer than I am and he puts up with me and tries to adjust himself to my foibles. He’s on a big learning curve. So am I. didn’t know I had so many foibles.

Well, I’m letting go—not sure of what.

**foible noun “We have to tolerate each other's little foibles: weakness, weak point, weak spot, failing, shortcoming, flaw, imperfection, blemish, fault, defect, frailty, infirmity, inadequacy, limitation; quirk, kink, idiosyncrasy, eccentricity, peculiarity, abnormality; Achilles heel, chink in one's armour; informal hang-up.” [All of the above.] ANTONYMS strength.

Oh, dear.