Last week I showed up for a meeting an hour early. I had written down 8:30 in my work calendar but remembered 8am and then the bus magically took no time at all. I was stunned by this unexpected windfall. And because no one likes to here how busy you are, I will just say that I appreciated the quiet.
But busyness is real. Mile-long to do lists are tangible. Over-committed exists and it feels like drowning. And while I’d like to untangle myself from this what I think I really want to do is find a way to not complain about it. I mean, really, Elizabeth Jane, who died and made you more important than everyone else? (Hint: no one.)
In my unanticipated reprieve I got a cup of coffee and read my book. I did not respond to emails or check twitter or flip through my flagged notes. I just sat there and read. It was the best kind of loneliness.