One rainy Portland morning* Selma and Havi decided to take the day off.

* It might possibly have been a Toozday.

It was all Selma’s decision since Havi wasn’t willing to talk about it.

Havi didn’t want to get out of bed. Havi didn’t want to be cheered up. Havi didn’t want to discuss options.

And she definitely didn’t want to do any work.

But even non-work stuff? No.

She didn’t want to do her fabulously wacky morning rituals. Or her slow Old Turkish Lady morning yoga practice, which is her favorite thing.

Or do her ten minutes of Shivanautical flailing to generate some deep tranquility with a couple hot buttered epiphanies on the side.

She also didn’t want to write a blog post. Or do anything, really.

Selma thinks that’s okay. But Havi wasn’t buying it.

Selma made the call. She and Havi’s gentleman friend presented a united front of “okay sweetie this is what we’re going to do”-ness.

They promised that if she’d get out of bed and agree to go outside, they’d let her wear the good rainpants. She’s easy that way.

Taking a day off is the hard.

Supposedly, it’s one of the perks of running your own company and theoretically it is a lovely notion, but hahahahahaha we know it doesn’t work like that.

Selma and Havi’s gentleman friend can point out as much as they’d like that Havi’s website has been around for four and a half years.

That nothing is going to shrivel up and die if she doesn’t get to it today.

That her people know about her quest to take more time to herself and they get it and they’re awesome.

There are shoulds.

So many, in fact, that it’s kind of overwhelming.

About how people need you.

About commitments you have made that are waiting on you.

About the giant what-ifs and the times that you have neglected things before to disastrous consequences. Which are admittedly sometimes kind of hilarious in hindsight but dude not this time.

About how you can’t just let your comment moderators delete someone’s comment because they know it will annoy you.

That you’re supposed to engage with people. Triple especially when people ultimately have good intentions. That you’ve always done it before and you could do it now.

And there is the question of capacity.

Mental bandwidth.

Emotional bandwidth.

Various assorted sovereignty-related things.

How many things can you deal with in a day? How many things can you deal with tomorrow?

When do you say this is enough. Or this is not important enough for me to be agonizing over it right now.

When do you say I live in Portland and I really need some rainpants dammit.

Havi and Selma are spending a day in the rain.

Drinking warm drinks.

Sitting in a cafe while the Gentleman Friend tries to make them laugh.

Splashing in puddles.

Possibly buying new gloves.

Not doing anything important. Which, weirdly, is really, really important right now.

Havi is practicing this new thing. And taking her duck for a walk. But only because her duck insisted.

Comment zen for today.

You can cheer for Havi. You can make her a tea or offer a hug. You can wish her good things. Or share stories of your own.

As always, anyone who tries to give Havi advice is getting a swift kick to the shins. Fair warning.

The Fluent Self