The Pull of the Meaningless.

I decided to back off. Really, I was starting to feel cooked and knew I was overdue for a week or three in cruise mode. Back off a little and see what I can sustain. With no real goals in the future thanks to work and the pandemic, it's all just guesswork at the moment.

Then I noticed I was only a little bit away from a nice, satisfyingly round number. It's a number I'd hit more than a few times before, although usually I try not to hit it in November because it makes no sense for me to hit it so far from... well... anything. Hitting it this early in the winter just means I'm looking at a crash if I'm not careful. That would set me back to square one.

Still, it's so close.

The logical side of me says it's just a number of no particular significance.

The obsessive compulsive side of me says it signifies achievement and completion.

I have an idea which side is going to win this argument, and I don't really want to deal with the aftermath.

It's so close.

What could possibly go wrong?

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