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?