There are traps everywhere in life and mind.
Breeedge? Breeeeeeeeedgeeet? Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. She's still asleep - best to let her continue sleeping for I don't want her whining about the 3 Precepts of Life  - you can have a hot apartment, a great job and a fantastic love life, but never all three at the same time.

The Four Agreements are disputing each other in a corner of my mind - There's no possible way that anyone can maintain such high standards, so they're arguing (not too gently at that) over how and who makes the first compromise (and therefore lowers standards). As you can imagine, Mr. Integrity ("I always do the right thing even when nobody is watching") is being the most insufferable and superior in tone. However, I'm sure the other three will catch Mr. I out in a lie eventually and thereby prove him not to have so much high-handed integrity, and thence send him to a corner to think upon his sins.

In short, my mind is boiling over over what to do in these dying (at least in my part of the world) days of June. In June there was early sun followed by gloom, and today, the last day of June, the sun has come out as a preview of what July should be.

The tattered remains after vicious reviews.
If last Sunday was a day of meeting zombies, then Monday and Tuesday were days of re-framing and re-writing past meetings, old budgets and abstracts. This was a week of multiple rejections from too many organizations, which would be too depressing to list. However, several of us did get together to commiserate and regroup; it's part of the job, but it's not easy to take it in your stride when you know that 70% of the time, you are told that you're not doing good enough a job by people who probably haven't done their own job very well. Nonetheless, we will continue to chip away at their moral superiority until we expose their clay feet, then with a gush of hot soapy water, wash away all traces of the havoc wreaked.

Then Wednesday came and went with a spirited defence of the East Side by CP and me. These loping interlopers shall be have at and sent packing. The West is not the  all and beyond, and I'm pleased beyond belief that there is solidarity in the East. What finally saved the week was Thursday when the good RS bought us roasted duck club sandwiches and showed us what a Z axis zoom could do if you had the money for the software and an air-table. What details! What colours! This was followed by the evidence-based realization that perhaps, just perhaps, being a zombie is a disease and that it might still be curable. The week following will tell what the prognosis is. I went home with a lighter heart despite the gloom of the clouds and the cloud of rejection slips trailing me, and now understanding that being a zombie is a sickness, was more understanding about the meanderthals milling about.

One last thing - a wrong - wilful - was righted - to assuage guilt - by means devious in both circumstances. So at this point in time, I'm okay with the four agreements (easily B+ in all of them) and am pretty sure that I score at least 1.7 in Bridget's precepts. So really, when all is said and done, when I look up on the view before me, life is okay, it'll be okay and I will survive what's been thrown at all aspects of my life.

The view before me, and possibly what it would look like from the Shoebox were the rains to come and never cease (but let's hope that's not the case for a long time)