I\’m at, or near, that place again. I\’m tired. But sleep isn\’t the only thing I need. I need rest again. I put a lot on my plate again, as much as would fit and then I piled on more.

I\’m sitting at my new desk. The lights are on, but this corner (not quite a nook) is a bit dark. It\’s not even 3pm, but feel it could be dusk. I\’m going to do a quick inventory of everything that hurts: 

  • Neck, both from the jiu jitsu classes I just started and from staring up at the ceiling all day.
  • Upper back (same as previous)
  • Right bicep, bruised from jiu jitsu.
  • right middle finger, scraped and scratched from work 
  • abs/stomach, sore from weighted crunches
  • glutes/butt, sore from squatting and wrestling teenagers smaller than me jiu jitsu
  • Right shin, sore from jiu jitsu
  • feet, sore with one blister because of the socks I wore today. (I ran out, so I had to use a sub-optimal pair.)
I\’m (desperately) trying to make the most of my time. And now I\’m here again with a minor case of burnout. Fortunately, I\’m not really burned out; I haven\’t lost anything. There\’s a part of me that wants to go to the gym right now. But I\’m looking at him, and I don\’t think he\’s concerned about my overall well-being. He\’s looking at me, and he\’s happy that I\’m both at my lowest weight in years and still retaining good muscle; but he only wants more—bigger biceps, a stronger chest, a few reps to keep the rear delts in good condition.
Not today. Today, I will do laundry. I may read. I must rest. I will have to make sure to rest well-before sleeping; that is exceedingly important today.
I want a beer. 
The old man says don\’t get a beer. Anything but beer he says. Wine? No wine. 
I\’m not sure who he is or if I should listen to him. But the voice of my inner-accountant says beer is not in the budget. We definitely need to get together and set weekly budget goals. We are headed in the right direction, however. 
Today and yesterday I was feeling bitter about my wages. It hurts knowing that I was making more on unemployment. Right now, I believe I have the lowest paying job in Local 46. I mean, someone has to do it… 
I\’m reminding myself that this is a part of the path I chose. It is a long path. I can change paths. But it doesn\’t make sense to at this point. There aren\’t any viable alternatives—not without first inventing a time machine.
When I got home and parked my car, I saw a chickadee just outside my door before I opened it. I waited there for a few seconds and watched him. He was weightless. He jumped around, almost instantly moving a few centimeters, like an electric spark albeit with a more predictable path. I\’m not sure why this caught my attention. 
Is it possible this bird was teleporting?