The thing about the macro lens, in all its cheap non-focusing glory, is now I see things that I always wanted to see but never knew I wanted to see them. I live inside flowers now. I live inside flowers and I identify as a blue lace-cap hydrangea and I call myself Princess Melissa Rose. It's not a random name, the internet revealed it to me, and who am I to argue with the collective font of all human wisdom?
I also drink flowers. Child number three bought child number one some French Earl Grey for Christmas, but he doesn't love it like I love it, he doesn't appreciate it and care for it and lay his life on the altar of its goodness the way I do. It's mine now. All mine, my precious...
Which is useful because I am going to need a lot of tea to fuel the next 4 days, which is all I have left to sort my life out. You'd think I have years, even decades, to sort it out, or, if you are especially optimistic, perhaps believe that my life is just fine how it is and doesn't need sorting out in the first place, but no. Everyone knows that this is what the days between Christmas and New Year are for, except that I wasted a few in a food-induced coma existential crisis, and watching movies and braving mall-shopping (because I have teens and they have money), and another half a day writing this, so I only have 3.5 days left. That should be enough. Expect reams of unrealistic plans and schemes and ideas to follow.
This approach has never worked for me in the past, it is true. Not even once. However, isn't the definition of sanity to keep persisting at the same thing until it finally works?
And anyway. I now have a weapon of mass creation. What could possibly go wrong?