Despite writing about me me me on this joint for years, I am shockingly unaware of my own thoughts and feelings. Last week, when I looked in the trash can and saw a recyclable yogurt container that I threw away the day before, I knew that I was feeling a bit hopeless about the future. If a glimpse at my phone record shows that I haven’t called anyone but doctors in 3 days, I realize I’m putting off sharing bad news with my loved ones.

Good news, then, as I review this week’s purchases:

An inadvisable amount of chicory, fresh sauerkraut, lots of leafy greens, and some new vitamins. I must want to feel healthy and alive!

A new book, a subscription to a literary magazine, an upgrade to my website’s hosting services. It’s as though I intend to be smart and creative all at once!

Potted bulbs. Oh, the newness! The growth! The beauty! The great hope that comes with blooming flowers!

Tickets for Brass Band Yoga at the Hofbrauhaus in Munich in May. I might be a little manic. That’s a helluvalotta hope right there.

Still, better to be filled with hope, art, and wonder than to burn the world down one yogurt cup at a time.

May your Friday be filled with small joys and the time to notice them. May your disappointments be met with placidity rather than anger. I joke about the far-fetched nature of my ridiculous plans, but damn it feels good to be hopeful.