Teach a four-hour workshop to thirty hospital leaders.
Renew driver’s license in person at the Texas DPS.
Get home in time to let in the plumber and plan for the dishwasher installer.
Keep up with meetings and work deadlines.
Pack for a trip to see family.
Catch a flight.
“I hate red,” I heard myself saying several years ago. It was a phrase I had parrotted from the adults around me. I didn’t know why I hated red; I just thought I should say it. I think I felt threatened by red, plus a little jealous. In high school I weighed 110 pounds (proud to say I’m still not much more than that) but hid my body in baggy T-shirts and unstylish jeans. I scoffed at women who got manicures and massages but never really understood the reason behind my snarkiness. In college I didn’t wear makeup and floated around in sweatshirts that could double as blankets.