Life is always going to throw you a curve at the plate. Wednesday night, for example, is when our house got robbed. Actually, our house got burglarized, which has the fine and very important distinction of meaning we weren't home at the time. But when we got home, everything was in disarray: drawers emptied out onto floors, papers everywhere, things scattered across the false narrative of having security.
Then the police came and we stayed up late counting what was missing, which fortunately could have been a lot worse than it was. Passports, my drone, some cash, a little jewelry, a hell of a lot of pride.
And what did I do? I used this as an excuse to break my routine and wake up a little late the next day. Yeah, I did get my writing done finally, but it was much later than usual and had the odd affect of slipping into the next day as well. Which reminds me of this:
Momentum is too easily lost. Streaks too easily broken. Just like that.
I managed to hit the curve allright, it dropped in for a single and all runner's are safe. But boy, you let your guard down for an instant, and the excuses start to pile up. The resistance, it finds just the toehold it needs to get under your skin. And then you got to fight back all that much harder the next time, just to get back on track. Lesson learned? Maybe.
7/21: 1 hour 4:30pm - 5:30pm
Location: The back of a speeding van.
Listening To: Before the Flood soundtrack
Streak Count: 4 days.