Not judging, but I’m not one of those chicks who digs sparkly vampires … or anything intended for an audience that still uses Clearasil. I’m forty-something, and I’m a busy woman. Thus, I have decided that I only have very limited time for angst. Just so we are all on the same page, I would like to lay out my angst allotment for the people who populate different areas of my life. You’re welcome.
- To everyone in book world, I write for myself and for the people who like my books. I do the best I can, and my loyal readers are willing to wait. They’ve told me that I don’t need to allot any angst to this area and I thank them for that.
- To everyone in law world, I went to law school to fight the good fight, and that’s what I do. I wouldn’t represent underdogs if I didn’t care about people. Deeply. But I leave it at the office and in the courtroom. Thus, no actual angst for you, but genuine concern during all working hours.
- To my friends, I’ll be there to ask you if you’ve lost weight when you are feeling like the afternoon show in the “big tank” at Sea World, and I’ll be there to buy the first round if you get passed over for that promotion. That you totally deserved! Your angst is my angst. No limits.
- To my children, I will never worry about anyone on this planet more than I worry about you. But I also believe that you can fly. I love you more than you’ll ever know. Unlimited amounts of everything for you.
- To everyone else I’m related to, I love you too. Most of you. Okay, some of you, and others I’m fond … ish of. I will be there for you too, but some of you tend to be a bit on the, shall we say, neurotic side. Kind of like a Pekinese on Meth. You know who you are. Just make good choices and don’t push me too far. I want to support you and I certainly don’t want to serve time in prison. Limited angst, on a probationary basis, for you.
- To the men I date, I’ll continue to worry about you thinking that I’m in my apartment playing the aria from Madame Butterfly and making plans to boil your house pet. I’ll continue to wonder if you ever think of me when I’m not texting you 500 times a day. And I’ll continue to wonder if you like me as much as I like you. But I’m too comfortable with myself for much more than that. A little angst for you, but thankfully, a much smaller allotment than the one you got when I was younger.