I am truly pooped today. Yesterday started at a full trot at 6:30 am, and ended some time after 11 pm. Most of it was spent on my feet, so this morning, my back is killing me. I never could figure out the connection, but there it is.
As I took Jonathan to school this morning--EARLY so he could go over some scenes from the play that opens tonight, I began to entertain thoughts of a rehearsal-free Monday. So much time on my hands after Monday, if I can just get through this weekend. Is that a denial of the busy schedule I have again today? Is it a positive perk that keeps me motivated? Yes. No. Both.
I do that a lot, actually. Thinking about when whatever is occupying my time will end, so that it's over. After 43 years, I haven't learned that something else jumps right in to take its place. I need a reality check.
I think maybe it's just a character flaw that goes all the way back to my childhood. You know, on December 26th I had already calculated it was 364 days to Christmas.
I read a post over at inkndoodles that made me laugh out loud. You can still smell the roses if you're running with them. I'd cross-stitch that on a pillow just for me. If I cross-stitched. If I ever sat around long enough to admire a pillow.