I didn’t start this day wishing for red wine, but this is how I’m finishing.

This morning, I was stepping light with eyes to the sky and the best commuter disposition for late buses and rerouted trains. I was loving my light cardigan layer and the ever-so-slight autumn crispness in the air with a hymn in my heart. I was smiling at strangers and thoughtfully pondering devotions on the A train.

It was storybook stuff.

Then work happened – the messy work of a pilot program in a public school in New York City. It feels like we’re knitting a sweater with a live ball of yarn. We are both wrestling and knitting in a maddening simultaneous struggle.

I didn’t start out like this and maybe the night commute can still cure me. I just know my eyes shouldn’t feel like lead and my brain shouldn’t feel like grits.

Oh, and I’m taking suggestions for red wine.