It seems we won't be getting early release at the office today. Ah well.
It's been quite a year, 2016. I've almost survived it. Less than 48 hours to go now.
It'd be embarrassing, what comes to mind right now, thinking about it, if I were to share it with you all. It's a little internally chagrinning even thinking that about that. Yet I do feel in touch with a clear streak of compassion for myself, too. I really do. It seems stronger now, that detectable continuous ribbon, not so regularly narrowing to a mere thread, running (waxing- and waningly) through the depths of my psychic and emotional ice cream like a ripple of sweet caramel it's like striking gold to come across. How's that for some mutliply serious metaphor imagining? I guess whatever it is it isn't strong enough for me not to want (and maybe need) a physical thing to compare it to. A mundane-ish not uncommon life experience. A model. All of the above, plural. But I feel like it's better now than it's been, lots of the time, whatever I cast it as.
That's not about WaPo, tho. So of course I really should change the title of this post to make reference to some etc.ness. I shan't, however. I didn't. Did I.
In other news, yesterday I really went off on a guy in my neighborhood. Apparently I am quite very much not taking shit about shit from shits, at least in that particular milieu.
If I don't say it to you tomorrow, or the next day, Happy New Year. Thanks for reading. Hope you like postcards. More postcards to come, provided postcard plans proceed properly.