The late George Tannenbaum.

Once again, I got a late start this morning.

I often do on Thursdays.

Mostly because for the last forty years, I've had therapy Thursday mornings at 8AM.

So, not only do I scurry out early, my head is usually in arrears after my forty-five mixed-up mental minutes.

Today I descended a deep flight of steps into the recesses of what used to pass for my mind.

I wallowed for a while. They wallowed some more. 

All this to say, I'm not feeling very writerly this morning. No thoughts that aren't darker than a Hasid's closet at midnight during a power-outage.

I'll leave you this morning with this.

A simple thought.

That can maybe light a candle in that closet when it's the most be-dimmed.

Try, try your hardest, to appreciate your special conglomeration of dna, genes and corpuscles. 

Try, try your hardest, to take it easy on yourself,
even if it's just for ten minutes every other week.

I'm not good at either of the above.

But I'm trying.