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Sometimes Mondays

Oh, man.  Sometimes Mondays look like . . . 

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letting go.

You can convince yourself that . . . it's just the laceweight.  (Because things always look wonky with laceweight.

But then it becomes all too obvious on the last row.  (That satisfying last row, y'know . . .  that really pulls everything together.)  
That there is Something Very Wrong.
Something you really should have caught (and done something about) 8 or 10 rows ago.

Because half-way through the final row, you can see that . . . everything is not pulling together anymore.

You apparently lost the plot.  Right there in the middle of a row.  8 or 10 rows back.
(Turns out it wasn't the laceweight.)

And so. . . it is not to be.
Not now.  Probably not ever.
Because you don't have the time.  
Or the energy.  
Or the mindset.  
To fix this.

I'm sure there's a metaphor in there somewhere.

But I'm not going to find it now.

Sometimes Mondays . . . show you that letting go is the only way.
(And it's going to be just fine.)

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