Yesterday got all done. The concert was charming (though I’m not certain the lead singer would prefer that description), time with my friend more charming still,

and I didn’t run myself into the ground. So all’s we’ll that ends well… .

To make certain, however, I am tackling this day as a modified pajama day. A slouchy sweater and stretchy jeans strike the right balance between my internal standards of dress and today’s zero-effort goal…

…while scrolling the interwebs for someone else’s nice piece of writing to share with you hits that balance here. 

https://vitals.lifehacker.com/what-i-learned-from-binge-writing-nine-bad-novels-1819693609

Not that I write novels of any type, but the writer’s expansion on “just find the time” matched what I’ve hammered out with myself. (I was going to share an Atlantic piece about stamping out jargon in academia, but I lost it. When i find it again—I hadn’t even finished reading it!—I’ll send it along.)

There. Now I am free to sing along out loud with what’s really in my head:

Sooner or later

Your legs give way, you hit the ground

Save it for later

Don’t run away and let me down…