If my life were a treadmill, I would definitely push the button to slow it down. I would, in fact, abandon the treadmill and find a comfortable couch where I could curl up and read until I fell asleep. (This also describes why I really need a personal trainer because when the going gets tough, I prefer to get off the treadmill.)
If I were a juggler, this would be the moment when all the balls (or flaming torches) would tumble to the ground (and set me on fire?). And so on and so forth.
So, yeah. That’s how things have been around here.
Yesterday, I sat on my bed for ten minutes between soccer practice and an evening meeting. The rest of the day I was in a frantic whirlwind of obligations. (Walk the dog. Work. Soccer practice. Procure dinner. Meeting. Work.) But when I put it that way, it sounds serene, my day.
I don’t feel serene.
I feel obligated and tense and boring.
Today, I woke up and walked the dog. Walking the dog for thirty minutes each morning has become essential. That bit of exercise changes her attitude dramatically and really, unless I want a Tasmanian devil jumping at my throat, I dare not skip the walk.
Then I worked my five-hour shift.
After work, I took the dog and the girl to the pet store to buy a . . . dog birthday cake. Don’t judge.
Back home, I started cooking dinner. Finished cooking and eating dinner and only a few minutes later, it was time to deliver my daughter to AWANA at church. The sky turned all shades of cottony pink as we drove so as soon as I dropped her off, I rushed to the beach and practically ran down the stairs to see the colored sky.
I took dozens of photos with my iPhone until the sky darkened and the moon brightened and then I climbed back into the car and returned home where I watched Survivor and then worked another three hours and wrote this blog post and yawned and yawned and yawned.
As I said, I’m tired. But the sunset was absolutely glorious and the cold sand beneath my toes and the curling, crashing waves felt like a promise.