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But first, coffee.

The apartment is still, though beyond our walls, I can hear that other apartments are not still at all. On one hand it feels like a peaceful respite of my loud and busy everyday life as a mom and an art teacher to the elementary set, and on the other, it is a reminder that life as a divorcee is broken into lonely chunks of time that it is my responsibility in which to fill. By necessity I rely on the calendar, and last minute changes to The Routine can leave me aimless. Do I begin with the necessary housework avoided during the school week, the email I need to send on a project, the website that still isn't quite right, fret for the billionth time about money and organize my paperwork, or do something for my health and go to the gym?  I become stuck with too many options, and make coffee instead.

That's a thing, you know: But first, coffee. 



The email was chosen as the winner of my Where to Begin in My Moment of Overwhelming Choices mental circus.  My kids return in less than …

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Persephone