A machine. Seriously. I could go through stacks and stacks of manuscripts, assignments, and, in my spare time, sneak a book or magazine.
I cannot do that anymore. I have time lines. I teach. I review my students’ work. It has to be done in a timely way. They are waiting on me. But sometimes —
Sometimes I will be reading and reviewing and there will come this point where I will just say, That is it, that is quitting time.
I did not used to do that. In the past I did not quit. Ever. I just went. But now? I hit a “this is done leave the rest till tomorrow” point and walk away.
It is not about being too tired. [Though sometimes I am.] Or too dazed. [Though sometimes I am.] Or too overloaded. [Though sometimes I am.] I could keep going. I could do review after review after review. They would all be thoughtful. And thought out. And worthwhile.
But that is not what it is.
I think it is about taking care of me.
So tonight I stop. And just say, That is enough. And just for tonight it is.