I'm pretty much in love.
Yesterday was a damn hard day. I had slept about three and a half, maybe four hours the night before because I was so incredibly revved up by the opportunity to lead two (three if you count my subbing gig on Wednesdays) writing groups that I couldn't stay prone. I was exhausted by the time I got to writing group last night, and, to add insult to injury, the backroom that we normally utilize for the meeting was crammed full of people and I couldn't find a book that should have been easily found in green San Francisco. I didn't want to do group last night. Where we gonna put 'em? I had forgotten the cardinal rule of cafes in San Francisco: despite the presence of internet, people do turn over. By some strange and yet predictable miracle, the place cleared out and everyone showed up (save, of course, for the guy who has me host instead of him). And I felt like I could fly.
It NEVER fails. I could walk in with a flesh wound and the process of attending group would make the whole world Willy Wonka-ed again.