Some things about blogging are really weird, like the fact I’m letting people inside my head. People I know, people I don’t know at all, people who knew me when. I say things and admit things to everyone out there, no matter who they happen to be.

But when I write something, I try not to think about it. If I’m doing it right, I’m not obsessing about who is reading my posts or what they are going think of me or how many “likes” they will give me. I try to put the thought of publication far, far, far from my mind. I’ve learned that the more I think about all the possible repercussions of writing, the less I like my writing. It gets to feel contrived, or I’m just too freaked out to write anything. So I pretend that no one at all is going to read these posts.

Buuuuuuut.

I write on a blog so that I have the needed pressure to write regularly. I’ve found that when it comes to writing, it’s hard to stick with it. It’s hard to sit down and come up with something just barely coherent at times. And some days are funky, meaning funky things happen or I am just randomly in a funk. On these days, I need that outside pressure and my own desire to save-face to drag me to my laptop.

Today is one of those days. Bear with me. I’m tired. Cranky. Restless. Overwhelmed by the griminess of my house. Bored. Achy. Ill-tempered. Funky. Nothing bad or out-of-the-ordinary happened today. It’s beastly hot and humid here in Miami, so maybe I’m just mad at all the people who are pinning apple baking recipes to their Pinterest boards and getting to wear riding boots and cute chunky knit sweaters. I don’t know.

I know there’s nothing that’s going to redeem the remaining hours of this day: no glass of wine strong enough, no hot bath long enough, no sitcom funny enough. This day just needs to be in the books. So I’m going to do something Biblical and wait for morning to come. I’m going to bed.

I’m so happy that God creates regular opportunities for us to start over. I like to think He created sleep to ease the burdens of the day, recharge our physical and mental batteries, and clear the slate. Every night, he brings in the darkness like a cleaning crew. When we get up, yesterday’s sins are behind us, hope is present, opportunity abounds. Anything can happen. I’ve always wholeheartedly agreed with the passage that declares, “Your mercies are new every morning.” Thank you, Jesus. After about 16 hours in any given day, I’m so ready for a chance to start over.

It brings me an enormous amount of peace to know that no matter the funk of today, tomorrow is full of another chance.

Good night.