A six-month sabbatical is kind of like a vacation on steroids. Which may explain why I was expending so much energy this morning to get things done so I could get on the road so I could relax. But a sane voice that I barely recognized intervened to say: "You've got six months. WHY are you rushing around? Doesn't this time belong to YOU?" At which point, I called my niece in Calgary to ask if dinner tomorrow night would be okay instead. She laughed. The wisdom of youth. But it does point out how responsible I feel not just to my job, but to a clock and a timetable. That's the first thing I have to discard. And I know it won't be easy. In any case, I geared down, read for a bit, sipped on a beer and made plans to get out of here tomorrow with a cool head and all the stuff I might have forgotten had I started my journey today. This gets easier, right?
No comments:
Post a Comment