Today, I fear no more.

Today is a small enough container to be worth defending. Not your life, not next year — the hours between now and sleep.

Fear is expensive because it charges rent on time you haven't reached yet. It runs Thursday's meeting, badly, about forty times before Thursday arrives.

Whatever is genuinely frightening will still be there when it gets here, and you'll meet it with whatever you have then, which is usually more than you're crediting yourself with now.

For today the question is narrower, and answerable: what needs doing before it gets dark?