This morning the sun crept in the window and all but bit my ear.
Groggier than most mornings, I slid my hand out of Dave's sweet clutch and staggered my way to the bathroom.
(I am so glad we finally put those cement heads in the garden. Lovely and friendly as they are, my toes would not have appreciated their presence against the carpeting this morning.)
It's been a half hour since then, the sun rising over my left shoulder, the new growth on the cherry tree pointing at me with that particular light shade of babyleaf green.
Last night I fell asleep on the couch, against Dave's chest, in the midst of what I thought was total concentration on one of Jackie Chan's first flicks.
Yesterday evening I went through the motions, antique shopping and restored rustic furniture shopping, dinner at a pub and giggles at Laryssa's birthday boozeup.
I threw her over my shoulder in one last gesture of silliness, and we headed out.
And through it all my heart was pounding in my chest and my head was screaming.
And all of it work-stress. Politicking stress. I went to work for 8am on Friday just so I could get a half hour of email done before the slew of meetings.
I spent the day politicking. I spent the day running from floor to floor to make sure that everyone understood the point before someone else could bend it at them.
I spent the day storming this or that exec's office, supporters at my heels.
I spent the day expelling energy like a mad wind; lunch, breathing, stopping forgotten.
I leaned back into a chair on the patio at Java, rub a sweet friend's knee, and proceeded to lose my mind while words hopped and skipped about me.
I spent eight hours of fury yesterday, and somehow I sudennly feel ridiculous for it.
I spent so much effort. I was on the ball. I was getting things and never missing a beat.
I made a hundred hackers happy, and somehow I feel like a silly child fighting the corporate machine because I think I can change something.
That's not what they hired me for.
And here I am thinking I can change the world, like I always have, because somewhere inside I'm still a delusional teenage Dungeons and Dragons gamer.
This morning the sun kissed my cheek as it rose past my chair and the thumping in my chest had somewhat subsided.
But it's a heavy breath that carries me to poke at the garden.