Anyone's restaurant; or, reconfig

I was tossing out the trash into this week's newsletter—while, coincidentally, having Arlo Guthrie run around in my head—when I wondered why I was doing it. As you well know, this is a fatal blow to getting things done, having to think about the thing you're doing.

I've wanted to tweak the newsletter anyway, so why not now? First off, Sunday was always arbitrary—it was just the day I put the first one out, and it became The Day. I like the idea of Monday better, so let's try that.

The day to publish doesn't even matter. What to publish is the only question. It's always felt a little slapdash and I've wanted to imbue it with... purpose? discipline? thought? Something—something.

More broadly, it's this post-vaccine feeling of a desire for... purpose? renewal? change? Again, I'm not sure. Having made it to here, it seems only Right to consider this the second part or the next part of something. The kit that brought you here might not be the kit you need to make out to the next checkpoint. Stop. And think. There's no rush. And there's no time.

Mondays were always a better day for the newsletter anyway.

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