There’s a space between underdoing it and overdoing it that other people call Tuesday. I seem to have misplaced mine.

It feels ridiculous to me that I, an intelligent 48-year-old woman, still don’t have the sense to stop and rest when I need to. I haven’t ever really known how to. Not consistently. But it’s something I’m learning… slowly. And this Tuesday I seem to have lighted upon something.

Sure, I don’t wanna get up and do stuff, but that has less to do with my energy level and more to do with two important factors.

1. It’s fucking cold. My partner bumps up the heat and closes the door in the morning when he gets up so I can stay warm and cozy and sleep as long as I’d like. So why would I get up and put my bare toes anywhere else if I didn’t have to.
2. I didn’t overdo it yesterday. And I’m so unused to feeling okay that I don’t trust the sensation. My brain assumes I must be wrong and will go completely wear myself out making hard-boiled eggs.

So here I am awake and writing this missive on my tiny little touchscreen letter pad with one eye buried in my pillow and one eye on the screen. It may look like I’m having a soft, lazy morning, but inside my head is a running tally of every single thing I did yesterday, no matter how insignificant, so I can try to match that pace today.

Here’s a spoiler I already know but won’t actually process for 3 to 5 business days. Today will not be yesterday. No matter what I do.

So it’s a whole new day of making choices… tiny, tentative, hopefully reasonable ones. And tomorrow I’ll try again. Reluctantly. Suspiciously.