Identity

What Sunday Is For Now

I used to spend Sunday making Monday manageable. Tomorrow I follow up with Marcus. The stakes are real. Nobody is tracking but me.

I checked my phone twice at my son's lacrosse game this morning. Marcus is a Monday follow-up and I know that. The habit doesn't.

I woke up and had to think about what day it was. Two seconds. But it happened, which tells me something about what I've been living inside.

In a meeting this morning I read a client situation correctly in ninety seconds. I've been thinking about that all night.

Two sentences in the unnamed document have been waiting since June. Tonight the gap looks different, but not closed.

115 posts in and the thing I built is starting to look like a different thing than I thought I was building.

Back at work Monday with a sentence practiced and ready and no one left to say it to who doesn't already know the old one.

Thirty-four days until September 19. I counted them in Sundays this morning. There are five. I keep rehearsing an answer I don't fully have yet.

I named what my institutional context is worth yesterday. This morning I found the version of me that is already detached from it.

I've spent three weeks building a consulting plan. I just noticed the part I look forward to most isn't the consulting.