At the far east end of the Ochoco Mountains, a stretch of mudbanks flanked Deep Creek, winding in lazy loops across the little valley framed by copper pillars of ponderosa pine. Overhead, nighthawks tumbled in the darkening sky.
I waded along the creek in my sandals, flyrod in hand, casting for trout. On the far side of the mudbank, I could see the concentric ripples of fish rising in large pool. I thought, oh, what’s a little mud? But after ten steps I was up to my knees and sinking fast.
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Although most of us manage to make it through that first day back at work after a vacation, for example, what about the less urgent stuff? What happens on week three after leaving off your training plan, diet, or whatever good thing you’re doing for yourself? Or, in the case of the self-employed artist, walking back into your mess of a studio after some time away, stacks of blank canvases staring reproachfully from the closet.
Luckily, there’s a solution to all that, at least one that seems to work for me.