Fridays for most people are the best day of the week. This is because this is the beginning of the weekend, two days off from working for someone else or for themselves; in other words, a break from working.

I don’t know how it is that I ended up working all Saturdays and some Sundays. If I foresaw that this would become a habit, I might have done something about it. Might is a key word here.

Okay. I’m not responsible for the consequences of my actions, which in this case are extreme depression and mental and physical inflexibility.

Here’s the catch. I will tell it as a story: The weather today was excellent. Sunny and warm. Almost too warm. I was hanging out on the side yard of the Palmer Museum, and feeling hot. So I took off my shoes and socks. The grass felt cool underfoot. My sore foot even stopped hurting for a bit. I talked for quite a while with several people I knew and hadn’t seen for some time.

After Friday Fling, I dropped off books at a depot event, and then I went back to the hotel where there were many people in the former banquet room. I actually hid out in the literacy annex until Pete showed up. I had spent enough time around people, and I really wasn’t up for being around more people.

The volunteers eventually left, and I breathed a sigh of relief, for it was again quiet. And I set to righting that which was wrong.

Next: July 25, 2026: Hanging on to Summer