I had a busier-than-usual week at work. I had to be “on” just about every second. By the time I got home on Thursday evening, I needed the weekend. Badly.
However, I had committed to being a site leader for a “Day of Service” on Friday. That required being at work at 7:30 a.m. for a day that would end at 8:00 p.m. Not to mention that I would be painting or cleaning or weeding the garden of a community center leading a team of students for whom the Vietnam War is ancient history.
I dragged myself out of bed at 5:30 a.m. I did only fifty percent of my exercise regime. I grabbed a (gluten-free) bagel. I gave a quick hug to a sleepy Peter at 7:00 a.m. as I rushed out the door.
He wished me good luck. I said that I was fine, now that the weekend was almost here.
“You are fantastic,” he replied.
That gave me all the energy I needed.