I worked for 12 hours on Wednesday and 11 the day before. So Thursday rolls around and 6:30 looks a lot like quitting time.
C’mon, it’s quitting time. Quit! says the little entrepreneur on my shoulder. Which shoulder? The left one. Nope, that’s where the bad advice comes from.
Stop with the computer already, says my Canine Assistant, Fenway, jumping into my lap.
This is not a problem I’d encounter with a human assistant, I think. Okay, I’ll walk the dog. But then…
Seriously, Elaine, you need to rest sometimes. Ah, the reasonable voice. My coach, reminding me that I need a balanced life. And she’s right.
But am I quitting?
No. I’m not longing to quit because I deserve a rest. I want to quit because the next item on my to-do list scares me. And if I turn on the baseball game and grab my knitting, I can avoid pushing past my comfort zone for one more night.
So is it quitting time? It most certainly is not.
Sorry if this post is shorter than usual, but I have some boundaries to crash. And I ain’t going anywhere until I’ve crashed ’em.
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