I spent much of today feeling a few degrees off-kilter.
Partly, I think, because I'm not going to work tomorrow.
That is, I'm not getting up, showering, driving 57 miles to Cleveland and going into an office. I mean, I've got PLENTY of work ahead of me. It's just that there's no boss but me here, boss, and there are phone calls to be made and emails to be sent and PDF clips to be corralled and seven million other things I'll probably think of between 2 and 3 a.m.
It has not been an unproductive day: I've got my WordPress switchover under way, and I've backed up all the Fieldsedge.com pages (I'm keeping the domain but plan to pretty much blow the site up and rebuild it). I've managed some email duties. Jenn and I took the dog for a walk before she went to work. (Jenn, that is.) And I've washed a load of towels.
But there's still so much organizing and planning and execution ahead that I felt strangely like I hadn't gotten anything done.
And then about 6:15, Kelsey asked me if I wanted to go outside and play catch. Honestly, I didn't. It was a little chilly. I was a little surly. And she said she understood.
And then we put some macaroni and cheese in the oven and went outside to play catch anyway because something in my head said, "Hey, idiot: This is important."
The sun slipped, my nose got cold, the shadows stretched across the backyard, and we threw a baseball which, every few minutes, would land in my glove with a smack hard enough to sting.
And I felt more than a little bit better.