Sometimes we refer to Mondays as "Meltdown Monday." You know the chickens come home to roost, and you have to look them squarely in the beak, count them, and reckon with them. A day of taking stock. Facing up.
Those persistent, always-looming, existential questions hover over the day: Who Am I? Where Am I Going? What's it All About Anyway?
Usually, there are no answers, those questions just nag at you, they nip at your heels like a pesky pack of nasty little doggies.
We decided to bury ourselves in "other things" yesterday. It was a very pandemic kind of day. It was "cleanup time," which has actually become a jamboree of our favorite chores: sweeping, mopping, scrubbing. The smell of Meyers soap, floating in the air. Cleanliness, Godliness, everything made squeaky clean, orderly.
Then it was onto creative pursuits. One of us painted in the kitchen, one of us worked on music in the computer room. We both went down our own little rabbit holes, searching for that mythical rabbit. Both of us spent lots of time spinning and listening to a healthy portion of the Wilco discography on the music box. A word about Jeff Tweedy and Wilco. Amazing. Underrated. Pretty much every one of their records are exquisite. No false moves. No "phoning it in." No lazy efforts. Just the finest stuff.
Yesterday we concluded Wilco is our favorite band of the moment. I wonder who it will be tomorrow? Anyway, we made it thru meltdown Monday without melting down. It was good day.
