Work

Work is good.

It makes me show up and get my mind on something besides my big fat self, the fight with my man or my eternal spiritual issues.

It’s good for me.

It keeps time moving at an appropriate pace.

Even when it’s hard to get there and I find it tiresome, it’s occupying some of my space and keeps me from thinking so hard about things, about what else I might be doing, should be doing. I’m being paid to be there, so I can't expect myself to do anything more. I have to stay engaged, and sometimes I get lost in the work.

It’s good.

It’s healthy, I guess.

It’s like exercise.

And, like exercise, afterwards, I get that feeling of accomplishment I’m somewhat addicted to.

And another day has gone by....

BUT HAS IT BEEN LIVED?