I felt yesterday’s pity party needed a little cleaning up before it can be put behind us, covered with a tarp and forgotten about like that 9th grade science project currently rotting in your parents’ garage.
Despite the tenuous state of my Prozac glaze yesterday, Sunday turned out to be a very good day.
In short: I recovered.
It is this recovery; it is this ability to recover that I must focus on.
Years ago, this ability was as foreign to me as a daytrip to Mars. While a Martian weekend is still out of reach, a “Pleasant Valley Sunday” is not.
That is the point.
There. All done. We’re ready for that tarp now.