My work week, like your work week, doesn't end until tomorrow (and actually, mine is rather fluid, often spilling over into odd days and even odder hours). But except for rare Fridays, I do not usually teach on that day. And so Thursday feels like the end of one week and Friday feels like the beginning of the next.
As my "work week" came to a close, I thought how unpredictable it all is. You start the week anticipating nothing more that a few tight hours, a handful of long days, and maybe one small screwup somewhere along the way.
You don't bargain for a crushed back, a lost vote before the Plan Commission, a tooth that falls apart before your eyes... and so on and so forth.
But you also can't know that at the end of it all, you may well come out whole. And if and when you do, it feels quite humbling.
So here I am, humbled.
As for the trivial aspects of the day, I'll give you, of course, breakfast -- note that I trimmed Ed's beard, finally!
Then, a shot of the iced-over dirt driveway, in the glow of the morning sun...
And finally, at the end of the day, the week, at the end of it all, a pot of home made chicken soup. For the comforting elements that it provides.