How flat the tack

After a soul-warming sun buoyed us all yesterday, today is drab again. Finders Keepers throngs. I have work with me—late 1950s radioactive waste history—but I’m flat as a tack. So much had been going well, including a new and steady exercise regime, a seemingly successful weight loss push, a semi-comprehensive book completion plan, and exciting Christmas plans.

Then, then, then … a supposedly restrained dinner (no wine!) last night bounced my weight up. Early electioneering does nothing but make me weep. Our Christmas plans suddenly dipped. Labor might vote to help the Libs approve a gas field four times as emissions-disastrous as Adani. A young American was exonerated after killing two African-Americans and then flew to Florida for a photo with Trump. Grinding reference-processing work this week seems to help not a whit. A relative from far away sent me, out of the blue, a long anti-vax email. This chapter is so onerous to draft.

Can I bounce back this afternoon? Or should I kick off my new Binge sub by watching a first episode of Season 2 of Succession?

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