I've been musing about the journey between instinct and fantasy. There's something that happens when you think about doing something even a little scary (and fantastic), and then all of a sudden it becomes impossible (and more fantastic, thereby).
And it never gets done.
If it's so easy for things to go in that one direction, it should at least be possible for them to go in the other direction. Instincts aren't supposed to be overcome so easily.
It's coming up to the weekend again. The Evens are playing on Friday. And the usual suspects will be saying farewell to Ian the Illegal Immigrant on Saturday. Somewhere along the way I need to put my winter wheels on, take my air conditioner out of the window, and move a whole bunch of 80s hip hop records to storage.
And follow through on an instinct, just for once.