Meg Dowell Writes

I feel like I’m missing something, like I’m not being told a secret, or the most important thing of all is not yet in my overall scope of general knowledge. This year’s sequence of revival services meant more to me than any string of chapel services I’ve ever woven between my fingers. I don’t want the speaker to leave. She would be an interesting person to sit down and have lunch with, maybe someday when I’m successful and actually have a life outside of the Bubble.

I love the Bubble. I do. Promise.

This blog would have been posted hours ago if it weren’t for distractions like homework and other adult responsibilities, like washing dishes (which hasn’t been done yet) and mastering the art of making coffee in a fancy coffee maker (done and delicious).

The list of things I still have to do before I go to bed is ridiculously long, but that’s what I get for being me, I suppose. They try to tell me not to be so crazy. I guess I don’t know how to listen.

Love&hugs, Meg<3