Today didn't go down the way I wanted it to.
As I write, I'm stowed away in bed with some intestinal yuck, looking outside my window at a gorgeous 78 degree fall day that is begging me to join it.
My plan was to go to mass early with my family, help my son sell Boy Scout popcorn after church and then go for an 11-mile run.
The run was to cap off a beautiful and nearly gut wrenching exhaustion of a week.
With events/meetings every night, a memorable birthday party for my mother, lots of volunteering at the kids' schools and five days of running...my body was wiped out.
So, I was eager to be by myself with my iPod running on probably one of the last beautiful days of the season.
Until I woke up and quickly realized, that's not happening.
I'm learning that I suck at managing my own expectations. When I decide how I want something to go down, I'm pretty resolute to see it through. And so, well, argh.
The Sunday New York Times, cat napping, water, tea, and the hope that this is a 24-hour deal.
If not, I'm going to seek out a Shaman or a Buddhist monk for healing. No rest for the weary.