Damp, drizzly November

The elation of Gill and Goff last evening makes way in time for the darkness of this Tuesday.  Falling stocks and black skies.  Dad checked out of his home for the first time, if only for a week.  And the ability to rouse yourself out of bed or, once at work, to put the mind to the tasks at hand which pay your salary... not present. 

Enough of this - waking and feeling as though there is nothing to be accomplished with the day.  Stuck.  Ugh.

Write your way out of it?  Seems the best course of action.  Tomorrow, the day after, into the MFA application, and then the start of an overdue conversation.  Shall next month be the last of the boozy lunches as a lawyer?  Shall you wander out into the wilderness, with a laptop and a bank account and a smile only? 

Por que no?  It is time, McMahon.  That 40th hour approacheth...  Be ready for it when it does.