Sundays are hot, listless days. The head aches from naps interrupted by thoughts of incomplete tasks and impending failures. Life seems to have flashed by me again, somehow. A series of numbers remains: 14 scripts left (check); new trigger temperature of 37.6 degrees (check); 6.5 hours of sleep tonight (I hope); 11.5KM to run (if I get off my butt).
Now, if only I could quantify inadequacy and tackle it accordingly…
