Morning’s onslaught hammers home a new perspective:
Maybe giving up my job is not the best idea, at least not now.
Maybe I shouldn’t tell the boss he’s a horse’s ass, although he is.
Maybe moving to a bothy in the Scottish Highlands falls slightly short of optimal, though I’d be my own boss and free as a bird, not to mention being true to my inner self.
Maybe drinking like a fish is incompatible with planning a life — who knew?
In vino veritas, in daylight claritas.