So much Tuesday. The rain is gone, for now at least, and from here it looks like serious summer. Postcard summer.
The kind of summer that seems impossible in January.
I’ve got a little time-pressure, which isn’t how I generally blog. I like a languid expression of the day, a quiet intro, or middle-tro as the case may be. Not today.
Today these fingers better get moving. It would help if they moved more accurately. I’m typo-city right now.
But here’s the thing about typos. Sometimes they result in the most-fun things, like my previously-mentioned “caffiend.” I mean it’s so perfect, I kinda think that part of my brain did it on purpose.
Or so I choose to believe.
None of those today, though. Unless “thsoe” sounds interesting. Which, come on, we both know it doesn’t.
Fun fact: it took me three tries to get the typo spelled the way I wrote it the first time.
So no creativity in my mistakes. Today they’re just mistakes. And that’s OK too, or so I hear. Making mistakes.
It’s weird that we seem to make more of them when it’s important that we don’t. Pressure or contrary human nature, who knows which, but the need for perfection always draws them in like flypaper.
Does flypaper work? That’s one of those purely-for-simile-effect things for me, I’ve never used flypaper. But magnets get all the metaphors, so I thought I’d go a different way.
But I digress.
Maybe the answer is to let perfection go and by doing so, lose all of its crafty traps.
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