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and it slips away

Yes, you should hit play now, and let it roll while you read, especially if you’re having a hard time shaking off your weekend.

This song, in Tina Dico’s whiskey-deep voice, is the best kind of absolution for screwing up. You have to be flexible on a weekend like this one, with the unexpected all-nighter on Saturday and the bike-repair fiasco on Sunday and my God, the mountain of email still to deal with, even though I swear to you I wrote fifty of them between Friday night and now. I still wrote, too, but didn’t do as much editing as I wanted on that manuscript. Now the regular week is back in my face with all its own demands, and I want to throw my hands up and surrender already. I feel like I’ve spent all my flexibility and now I’m sore as hell.

Sometimes turning my attitude around has to be done with a pair of vise-grips and every molecule of emotional vigor I can muster. When that’s done, it’s like I’m a different person, some optimistic only-part-real thing, and everything is fine again. This amazing summer—so hot, but so bright!—gives me all the energy I need, even on five hours of sleep. The progress that was made on the book was great progress; the emails were as productive as ones and zeros can be, and the bike? Well, new parts will be got, that’s what, new and better ones. The business of living will be, as always, dealt with, processed, inboxed and outboxed. I am not a very good grown-up as a rule, so when I even come close to achieving my (honestly, meager) goals, it’s a confidence boost. I may not be a good grown-up, but I don’t totally suck at it, either.

Unfortunately, a bad book was my reading company for most of Friday and all of Saturday, when I stepped away from the computer. (Yes, there are no bad books, I know. But this book proved all previous truisms… well, untrue. Next time, I’ll quit before I waste that many hours of a day.) I skimmed it just to get it out of my hair, and then jumped into a much, much better one: One Day, by David Nicholls. I felt the weekend turn to cold water and let it flow through my fingers, and before you know it, I stood toe to toe with Monday and the vise-grips came out. Slap those wet palms on your jeans, girl, and get down to business.