Close Enough

October fifth. The sweater was already on before I decided the sweater was the answer. That's how Tuesday went.

I've been thinking about the Carol postcard, it's been on the counter long enough that I've started treating it like furniture, which is exactly the thing I told myself I wouldn't do. Somewhere in between the climbing session on Tuesday and whatever I cooked Wednesday that I've already forgotten, the week got away from me in a very quiet and undramatic way. Not a bad week. Just a week that moved without asking permission.

I sat on the edge of the bed for what I thought was one second. It was not one second.

The one-second sit-down that became five minutes.

There's a specific kind of tired that isn't about sleep, it's more like your brain has been slightly clenched for five days and it finally remembered to let go at exactly the wrong moment, which is the moment you're supposed to be locating your shoes.

I did locate the shoes eventually. I looked in the mirror one more time, not fixing anything, just checking

Just looking. Not sure for what.

, and decided: close enough. Some mornings that's the whole work of it. Deciding that close enough is a complete sentence.