Rusty gears

The alarm this morning was on the edge of painful. Because we had gone to bed late and it has been more than a week since I knew I needed to get up and go to work it was rough. I forced myself to an up right position, barely containing the desire to lay back down. After a few moments of trying to clear my head, eyes still closed, not even wanting to see the shadows of light, I rose to my wobbly legs.

I moved before I let gravity cause me to plop back to the position I came from. I opened only one eye and shuffled across the room, promptly kicking my weights on the floor. What a cruel reminder that I should be working out this morning. Nope. Isn't enough that I'm upright and sorting the list of things I need to do before heading into work.

I decide on making coffee and taking a shower first. I unplug my iPad to make a note and the light from the screen is too much to look at. It burns.

When I walk through the door at work, I am in a much better state. Clean, both eyes open, coffee drank and on time. I am ready to work, but it is hard to know where to begin. 202 emails? Catching up with employees? The manager who had some of my duties? I do a little of each, and it turns out it is not that bad. Between Barb handling some of the pressing e-mail, my staff moving forward and others on vacation, the work is not as heavy as a feared. Additionally, I have only one meeting and it is one about a news article. Simple.

At lunch, I continue my routine and pull up the app I write blogs with and... nothing. As it turns out, have a week of great experiences and an exciting Fourth of July don't help. It has been so long since I wrote a blog, it takes me a while to remember how to do it. When I settle on what to write, it is the small pain in my toe that casts the deciding vote.

Somewhere I can hear the squeaking of protesting gears.