Teflon. Those moments which hurt me and helped me this week all spattered out of the ‘What to write?’ stew, but none of them stuck. The weekend is already a weight. The next work week may actually be something of a relief from my own expectations. And even now I can hear the tuning pegs tightening the strings on my hopes and dreams to a tautness no longer pleasing to the ear.
Which all sounds so dramatic, when really it’s just the error half of that old “trial and blah blah” chestnut. An error I will live to make again, because the stakes are about as high as my knee. Which, to be fair, is almost toddler height; and standing is really a significant milestone for the recently ex-utero crowd…Per-spec-tive.
Will I ever rein in my fantasy life? Will I ever stop being so literal about that aphorism “if you can dream it you can do it?” To be continued.
