I know you’ve had them: those times when the daylight hours introduced different levels of weird in every interaction.

Okay okay it’s not every interaction. But that’s the way it feels. There’s a determined sabatoge-y feeling running grinning savagely under whatever your priorities are. The train to the key meeting is delayed. The communication lines crossed so that your compadre is where you’re supposed to be and you? You are somewhere else entirely. And so the traveling and walking and checking continue.

Your feet tell the story eloquently. They ask, with great passion: “What the hell is the matter with you?! We are too tired to keep this up and it’s the brain’s fault, grrr!

The brain is fielding distress messages from everywhere. But it is cognizant of the complaints of the feet, and rather than apologizing – after all, it’s their plan that went sideways – they refuse to take proper responsibility.

“You should have spent more time stretching and taking advantage of that foot bath I arranged for you. But noooo, you couldn’t stay on yourselves for another second last night and went to bed.
I told you proper preparation would have been a better choice. So, yeah…”

The knees, silently fighting an offside twinge, began, frowning, to listen.