Getting Right

When I'm disorganized, lost, grumpy, surly and incomplete there always comes a moment when I can see the corner to turn to get me out of the mess. To a place a point over there, where I can shake loose and get right. The place the point is a redundant destination. The path to it well trodden, but I don't think I've ever looked down and examined where how it twists and turns.

I want to get right, now. Where is the place the point?

I know I have to get right with my lover, neglecting my favorite only piece of ass is too often an oversight.

I know I have to get right with my kids, not let this summer pass by as three more months knocked out on the way to them moving out.

I know I have to get right with my health, ending this farce where I'm fat and slow when I should be so fucking hot and and fast.

I know I have to get right with my code, writing shit that makes sense to other people, including myself 30 days later.

So I'm going to get right.