Between my late afternoon track workout and my evening writing session for my personal essay class taught by Saundra Goldman, I’m pooped. I need to tend to my beggar children, get my stuff organized for tomorrow, and crawl into bed, but moving even a little sounds exhausting right now. So I sink a bit deeper into my couch.
It’s a good tired that I’m feeling. It’s the tired that comes with the satisfaction of time well spent and energy well exerted. I poured myself out on the track and on the page in the best way I know how. I love this feeling. I’d love it more if there was someone here who would get me a glass of water, feed my children, put my stuff in my work bag for me, and carry me to my bed. Any volunteers?