My desk is a cycling of files. The decision repeats: for storage or for the shredder? At home, a strange path of correspondences and paperwork. I'm tired. Even with the coffee. And so the countdown continues, stumbling from hour to hour, which melts from day into day. I've lost my footing, but there are just a few miles more. Next week are trainings and meetings and luncheons. The following week, 3/6 of the Nationals home games and a picnic by the Potomac. It's a joyful crashing into transition. An exasperated relief. I feel like my working mind is a layer separate from my thinking mind at this point. It's just sort of hovering at the verge of exhaustion. I could push it a bit farther to processing mode, but it might switch off. So I'll just let it coast.
Tonight...perhaps some sailing on the Great Sea. Ah, to sail.