WEATHERBEATEN
This work week is wringing me out like a washcloth, twisting just tight enough to make my shoulders cram up against the small bones where spine meets skull. It’s been a week of breathless galloping through projects, and then galloping back and forth over my tracks, reined in by the wishes of others. Still, I’m satisfied. I’m getting things done, although I’ve had to say no twice to people, something I hate having to do. No, I’m sorry, I can’t take your project although I know there isn’t anyone else that you can ask, there isn’t anyone else who can...