What fresh hell is this? Oh, if only I were fortunate enough to have a fresh hell. I'm fighting the same old dreary one I've been fighting in since Monday: the blizzard of papers that assembled themselves in untidy piles all over the house over the last six months.
I'm making progress. In fact, I'm making so much progress that right this moment I'm in a position to decide whether to work on my 2009 income taxes or to work on the first chapter of a new book, which I'm committed to reading (ten minutes' worth of) tomorrow night at Day's Espresso and Coffee on Bardstown Road.
Meanwhile, the mounds of paper are reduced to molehills, which are just as cluttery as the mounds were. Repeat after me: "Slow but steady wins the race."
Now try to say it like you mean it.
2 comments:
The phrase "fresh hell", while poetic, is completely misleading, if not oxymoronic (ever use that word as a adjective before?). I can't believe I never considered this obvious error in poetic judgment before you pointed it out.
And in case you haven't been keeping up with my endless notes on facebook, I'm going through the same fresh hell of ten years ago -- to wit, an existential crisis, according to my psychiatrist, of whom I think quite highly except for that. I thought such crises were one per customer, and I distinctly remember completing mine in 2001. And my cousin, when he read up on it in wikipedia, said, "Tres chic," and if I weren't in KY and he in Italy, I'd clobber him.
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