So I decided last night that I would take today off.

Last week (Sunday the 27th-Sat the 3rd) I worked 75...76...77 hours at my job?

Again, I love my job, but damn. By Saturday at dinner I was starting to shake as my eyes darted from person to person. My emotions were on edge and everything made me cry. Maybe I'm working a little too much.

Sunday wasn't much better. I had to finish out the long week with the start of a new one. Sunday night we had the alternative service on Waiting at Mosaic that I'd invited my FBC college students to attend. So I went to work at 8:30 am, taught Sunday School, Ecclesiastes, fun and uplifting, went to "big church," went to lunch with my college students, returned to church to prepare for the evening service. Acted in a skit and served communion at the service. Tore down afterwards and went out for food and beverages at 10:30. A little after midnight, I crashed into my bed. All I had to do on Monday was go to lunch with a woman from church. No need to set the alarm. Need to sleep in.

And sleep, I did. At 1:10pm, the phone rang. I missed the call, glanced at the clock, realized I'd slept past my lunch date and called back the number. It was Amelia. She was running late, and obviously I was too.

I slept until 1pm and only woke up because my phone rang.

Wow.

I guess I was tired.

Last night after the service, I laid on the stairs of First Baptist and stared up the spiral to the ceiling. I didn't want to leave. That church feels like home and I certainly spend more time there than I do at my house. I'm becoming attached to a building. Is that right? Is that psycho?

Yes, it is.

I should consider returning to counseling.

It's good to love your job but, and I repeat... damn.

So I slept in today. I took out Mosaic's pastor's kids for a couple of hours. I needed a reality check. I needed to be with people, and children are by far, the best type of people.

We visited an exotic pet store and then went to PetSmart so I could buy hermit crabs for my office. Of course, we had to visit all the pets in PetSmart as well though and they had kitties.

"You have two titty tats," Alison says to me.
"Actually, I only have one now, sweetheart."
"Her other kitty died," Jackson informed his sister.

I knew Jack knew. Someone at church last week came up to me and said that Jackson had told him, "Ann's sad right now. Her cat died." Jackson is 6.

In the car, Allison began to talk about when she met my "two titty tats" again.

"You met them?" Jackson asked. Then the said, "I guess I'll only ever get to meet one of them." Sigh. Then he tried to help me with my sense of loss that he must of known I felt. "But everything on earth dies, Ann," he consoled. "But not in heaven. No one in heaven dies. But everyone on earth has to." He tried to explain his point further. "Cars die. Buildings die...if they're crushed."

"What about people?" I tested him.

"Oh, they're easy," he replied.

And he's right. We're fragile. Life is unpredictable. And I shouldn't work so much, should call my family more, and should take every opportunity to have dinner with friends.

This week I won't work 80 hours. I'll just work 4o, and I'll meet up with friends for drinks. And I'll try and go out on a date.

Or I'll just spend every day at work and let the secretaries dictate my social life.

It could be worse... or it could be beautful.