I’ve been in a funk recently. I don’t need to go into details, but some might call it midlife existential angst. Last week was particularly difficult; I was feeling mighty sorry for myself and struggling with feelings of low self-worth. It was pitiful and I wallowed in self-criticism. I wasn’t making the progress I wanted on my book, behind on book reviews, struggling with motivation to get to the gym, disorganized as all get out, and feeling pretty much like a failure. What DID I have to show at the end of the day? A mostly clean house, a fairly well-exercised dog, and laundry. Huge piles of clean, yet-to-be-folded laundry.…