I’m told that the cool kids these days prefer “intentions” over “resolutions” at New Year. That’s a distinction without a difference, in my opinion.

For the first time since Edmund died, my New Year review does not include any concerns over where I should live or how much stuff I have. This house needs work, to be sure, but none of it requires figuring out — it’s all obvious tasks to be done. Ambiguity and decision fatigue are over, and I have but to keep putting one foot in front of the other. Taking care, of course, not to slip on the ice.

When I last tried using an electric toothbrush, its vibration made my teeth ache. Is there such a thing as a low-stress toothbrush?