Cutting slack is an official postal (read crazy) term for when you’re stuck and being towed out by something unstuck. When you’re out, you need the unstuck original to back up (or you can pull forward) to put some slack into the line. Then you can unhook the tow line and you can get moving again. You’re still connected, because there is a mutual unstuckness about you still. I mean that in a good sense.
Cutting slack is also a nautical term, and I mean that in a good sense and better.
But here, I mean it this way:
This being 3 January I want to write three posts. The first was “To the Tenth . . . ” and the second, unintended, was “I didn’t honk this time.” That one just came up and I was in a good mood and had time on my hands apparently because of the light load today so I wrote it on the fly. This post ain’t one of them, the three, so I need some slack. Number three will come when I’m officially off work even though you could hardly call it work.
I hope you’ll visit again later if you have a chance. If not, I have already said I’ll see you on the flip side. Sooner, rather than later I hope.
P.S. I took this from my seat looking down into a drain beneath a box on extremely busy McLoughlin Avenue ( stopped, of course, on the shoulder). Weird, but that ball was just there, safely out of traffic and above the muck and mire. I think I know what it means . . .