The Cost of Always Being On

Last Saturday, I did something unusual for me: I stopped.

I didn’t mean to. It just happened. The day unfolded with no big agenda. I met a friend at the dog park in the morning. I came home and napped in the afternoon. That evening, my husband and I went to see a scary movie — The Conjuring: Last Rites — where I clutched his hand through every jump scare and let out one very real, very loud scream. Later, I poured a bourbon, settled onto the deck, and listened to Norah Jones while the sky faded from blue to black.

It sounds ordinary. And maybe that’s the point. It was one of the best days I’ve had in months.