If life were perfect, I would be able to read books, write in my journal, blog, work, exercise, and cook dinner every night. But life is actually way less than perfect for productivity. And sometimes, perfect sounds like pre-made salad and in bed by nine after reading five pages of a great book while fighting sleep (more nights than I care to share). And other nights perfect sounds like eating dinner on the couch while watching Sherlock (all done now).
But I think, tonight, perfect sounds like waking up my blog after a little slumber, and saying hello again.