Vox Meditantis

Catherine confronts a hypothetical: what would she do with extra hours if sleep were optional? The fantasy exposes old instincts – more case reports, endless polishing – versus the woman preparing simple Thanksgiving dishes for David tomorrow and finally learning that presence, not productivity, is the work.

Catherine catalogues three irritations – weaponised busyness, sensory-hostile spaces, tidy narratives – and discovers each is a mirror. Her standards have become walls. With Thanksgiving approaching, she sets herself an uncomfortable experiment: invite David and family over, then let something stay imperfect without rushing to fix it.

Catherine confronts her professional discomfort with the word ‘favourite’ and names her current inner circle: Father Walsh at dawn, Jenny’s conspiratorial library wisdom, David’s careful domesticity. She commits to extending two concrete invitations, transforming private sentiment into actual chosen presence.

A morning encounter with Tom’s dog and a sun-warm bench prompt Catherine to consider which creatures she’s trusted into her carefully ordered life – and whether she’s finally ready to let something depend on her in ways that can’t be scheduled away.