She said, "He'll shake things up and then leave without an explanation." A smile was on my lips and a denial in my throat when I realized she wasn't all together wrong. I'd like to say it was just her perception of me, but I can't honestly do so. I've said the same thing about myself, but less directly: I have no stamina.
Strange as it sounds, I prefer her version.
Funny how ten minutes after that bit of truth was tossed at me I got a phone call about a meeting I forgot I had in the next hour. What did I do? I begged off, but not before offering a big, shiny new idea. And then I hung up.
Now, as always, I'm panicky in the aftermath. My shame urges me on to do something, anything, to prove that I can follow through. So instead of doing anything I said I would, I unpacked and arranged the house a little more. It didn't help. Turns out it take more then half an hour. So I stopped.
Since motion seems to be my problem, I thought I'd sit down for once and take some action.
