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.