Was just thinking about the fact that it’s Tuesday. I thought it was Monday.

In Edinburgh, I always rate the probability of accomplishing my dreams on the basis of how many weekends are left. The first weekend, there’s not only that weekend, but the next one and the next one after that. And the next one after THAT. Everything is possible.

The second weekend, there is still that weekend. And the next one. And the next.

You can still do it.

The third weekend, there’s still another weekend, even after THAT weekend. So, no reason to worry.

Then, as the weekdays tick by and futility seems the only real truth, each day still contains desperate last hopes and moments of faith. Until.

The last weekend there is nothing you can do.

‘Cept hope for more money.

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