There are some days when getting out of bed feels like cinder blocks are attached to my chest.
Days when I overthink overthinking.
Before my feet land on the wood floor, I've checked and rechecked my mental To Do list.
In the darkness before sunrise, I write down my tasks for the day with a steaming cup of tea at my side.
The dog meanders over and lays at my feet for his morning belly rub.
Hours later, just when I think I have the time and space to really get work done, my husband stands in the doorway of my office and smiles.
He says if we leave now we can eat lunch in the rain, covered by the outdoor patio.
I look at my To Do list, then I look at him standing in doorway with a look of hope in his eyes.
He knows-as much as I know-that lunch in the rain is the best way to remove the cinderblocks from my life.
The patter of the rain landing on the patio accompanies the food he orders.
We toast to knowing work will be waiting for us upon our return, but-for now-life is beautiful and carefree.