Why am I so talented at anticipating a big step forward and in retrospect realising that it in fact amounts to two giant leaps backward? Should I pretend to be an optimist and desperately tell myself that any movement is good? From any factual point of view, I should have nothing to complain about, but there are moments - sometimes long ones - when I'm glad that I don't have to choose whether to wake up the next day or not.
Inevitably and monotonously, tomorrow is always a new day. There is going to be movement again, and hopefully some enjoyable moments as well as (in contrast to today) a blog entry someone can decipher.