I may be working too much these days.
I caught myself thinking the other day that I could really go for a short stay in the hospital. Nothing life-threatening, mind you—maybe a gallbladder operation or something, where they’d have to keep me for a few days but I’d be just fine in the end. That’s how exhausted I am.
The thing is, this has happened before.
Back in the spring of 1999, I had the same thought: I was too busy for a real vacation, but figured a couple of days in the hospital would get me rested and back on track. Mostly, I just wanted some free time to read a book. Sad, I know.
Just like magic—a ruptured appendix landed me in the hospital for four days. (And before you ask, no, I did not somehow rupture my appendix on purpose; I wouldn’t do that even if I knew how.)
People always laugh about superstition and so-called magical thinking, but hey, sometimes it seems to work. And if a stray thought 20 years ago could burst my appendix, how much stronger might my powers have become over the years? I’m not exactly the luckiest person in the world. If I let myself think too much, I’m afraid I may end up needing some kind of transplant.
So, no, I’m not tired. Not overworked. No way. I don’t need a rest. Nope. All good here.