Over the years I have become a master in the art of notes. I make notes to myself in my phone, on sticky notes, in my calendar, on long lists, in writing notebooks and planning notebooks, and in my head. I leave notes for my kids in their lunch boxes. I write notes in cards and emails and text messages to my family and friends. I send reminder notes and favor notes and random thoughts to my husband when he's at work. I have note pads and note books and note apps galore. Lots of places and spaces to make notes to myself. Do this. Do that. Don't forget this. Remember that. And I love them. They give me a certain sense of security. They assuage my anxiety. Or, at least I thought they did. I mean, they did...until they didn't. Somewhere along the line my note making went from being a helpful habit to being something more akin to an addiction. But, as far as I know, there's no twelve step program for note making. So, I'm on my own with this one. Over the last ...
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