I've got very little for you today. Not even a big font for my opening line.
(Because, truly, who wants to write, "I've got very little for you today," in big, orange, serif-y letters? Not me.)
I had a feeling this would happen at some point or another, but still, I hoped it wouldn't.
I'm afraid I've run out of steam this last week. I'm finding myself speechless, and not for any particular reason—not any I can discern, at least.
On Instagram this morning, something in the way of a permission slip appeared just when I needed it. It's in Jen Lee's feed, but it's a bit of conversation from her podcast with Tim Manley, Just Between You & Me, and it's from today's episode (aptly titled "Recovery Mode"). A picture of a tiny piece of paper held over a lounging cat, these words neatly formed in ink:
Do the dishes. Clear your inbox. Run some errands you've been putting off. Clean the space so tomorrow you can be ready to go.
Finally, now, at 5 p.m. ET (after a hideously frustrating day of writing and erasing, writing and erasing...), I'm taking heed.
Going into recovery mode.
Turning off the volume.
Turning off the lights.
I hope that whatever it is you're most needing right now, you give to yourself.
Even if it's inconvenient or disappoints. Even if it ruins your perfect, never-missed-a-single-day streak. Even if you're pretty sure you could just push yourself a little harder and something good would come of it.
Go ahead and meet your needs. Because you can.
Then meet me back here next week.
Befriended Calista, ate the best fish tacos of my life at Station 101 Pub & Kitchen (twice—once for dinner and again for lunch the following day), traveled from Pennsylvania through New Jersey and into New York, reunited with Mom & Dad, LIRR and walking wet streets as parade traffic wound down, Thanksgiving festivities at Kaylin & Rob's, got to hug Connie again, cheesy potatoes and boozy cranberries and lentil shepherd's pie and lots of California red wine, Alan Partridge, pre-sunset walks through fallen leaves, the neighborhood of my youth, a Sunday visit with Kitty & Zane, a two-and-a-half-year-old who says, "You know?" rhetorically, rediscovered the drawer of McDonald's Happy Meal toys, stuffed shells and rosemary bread with Kerrygold, Mom's amazing apple cake and brownie brittle, Christmas music over the Sonos, Gilmore Girls on the couch