Edited to add the following:
This evening I found this photo of me on the last day of our honeymoon. We were married in England, in the Mathematician’s hometown, and then, short of funds, borrowed his mum’s car and went off in search of literary landmarks in Devon. This last landmark I’m looking at is not so much literary as it is … well, if you click on the photo you’ll get a larger version. And I do mean larger. Anybody know what it’s called? Not that, the hillside sculpture as a whole.
Funny how you find things to change perspective when you need it most.
From earlier today:
You are tumbling in the dryer of doom, fumbling for more quarters to feed into the beast.
Stop. Dust yourself off and start moving forward. Face your fears. For example:
- PG will sell, or it won’t.
- The critics will be even handed or they will feast on its still twitching flesh, laughing maniacially.
- There will be more electoral shenanigans, or the people will prevail.
- The Grey’s Anatomy writers will come to their senses, or you’ll turn the channel
- You’ll finish book six, or you’ll go get a different job.
Move on. Right this very minute: move on.