My first mistake was trying to be incredibly productive and going for a run before work began. I'd forgotten that I'm no longer in England and thus the tomato-red face I acquire when I do any form of physical exercise does not fade in 10 minutes but takes at least half an hour, sometimes more, and a good deal of sweating to calm itself down and stop screaming to the world 'She's trying! She's trying to run in this furnace of 31 degrees! Yes, she's mad but she's trying!'
And so the inevitable conclusion of that endeavor was that, in my nice clean white work shirt, I was probably the sweatiest person taking the train.
(Except taking the train is no longer 'taking the train', I reminded myself, It is now 'the commute to work'.)
At work I wrote up some publicity blurbs, ordered The Riverside Chaucer for next term, and got Hannah the bus tickets she needs to get to Frankfurt.
This morning I decided to forgo the run and get more blessed sleep, but panic still ensues when I knock a glass off the shelf while cutting up the tomatoes for my lunch, and spend a rushed 5 minutes mopping water and broke glass off the floor.
okayokayokayokayokay
I stopped on the way into work (because despite the disaster, I was early) to look at a sculpture called 'Let There Be Peace' by Alexandra Nechita.
'And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.' Philippians 4:7
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