This is one of those days when the world is pile-driving my head, pulverizing my soul, and my defenses are breached and falling. I want to hide from my shadow, escape to an isolated beach, or maybe just stay in bed with the covers up to my chin in a dark room.
But I’ll walk. I’ll write. I’ll find moral and emotional sustenance and comfort in these routines. Maybe I’ll go have a beer somewhere, drain the glass by a fire, watch the weather, and enjoy this perk.
That’s for later. There are things to do now. I might go get a haircut. I don’t know how that will change the day’s balance, but I’m overdue by about two weeks.