And there is me time.

Today is the humpday of limbo—the mid-point of the week between work and home I discussed on Monday. The space in which I burn off the residue of the semester and enter the summer (and birthday week) free and clear.

It’s a day of reckoning professionally—grades are due, final tasks are due. I have a classroom observation that is over-due and was inexplicably delayed by increasingly frustrating levels of high school bureaucracy—sorry, you are not in the system; nothing I can do about it. (That would be man’s time pretending to be God’s time.)

What do I have to reckon, personally? What’s not adding up? What do I have to get in order or get off the books?

One burden I’m still carrying is last summer’s lost summer. So much did not happen, and a lot of what did happen was not on my schedule. But that was last summer. I need to convince myself of that.

Wednesday’s humpday metaphor speaks to the camel’s back in more than one way: it’s a hill to get over and a burden to bear—one that might break my back. It’s my time to shrug off what I’ve lost and start counting what I have with heartfelt honesty. Start a new book, account a new time. My only auditor is me.