Canada came home today. I sloshed my way to the airport in a four-inch downpour. And, there she was riding down the escalator, looking a little weary and very much happy to see me. We're pitiful old high school sweethearts and wouldn't know what to do without each other. We don't often spend more than a couple days apart.
Then, off on a pleasant post-rain ride to Barrata's for lunch, where we each had a stiff drink (my usual -- Southern Comfort), which made us both a bit bleary eyed and ready for a nap. Which we did!
We both needed the rest. She didn't get much sleep in between marathon sessions of grading 700 test essays. For me, work has been unusually intense these past couple weeks.
When I finally managed to find my phone late in the afternoon, I glanced at work email out of sheer habit. There was big news from management, and I wanted to read the memo. The trick with those pep rallies in email form is reading between the lines. Then it occurred to me. I had managed to enjoy the afternoon without thinking about work at all. Without realizing, my brain unwound. It was that moment of release, as though life had unclenched its white-knuckle grip on my spinal column, that I realized I need to walk away and breathe much more often. It's easy to miss that slowly tightening grip.
And, Canada had her own realization, ironically while working in Kentucky. She just said to me "I take myself way to seriously!" We both do that, love. We work hard, and then wonder why we're worn out on weekends spent mostly at home. Hell, I'm not even sure what I want to do with most of my free time. Work's constantly on my brain, even more so than last years.
Work to live, not live to work.
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