"Hail, Knight of the Woeful Countenance."

Jo came to see my show on Friday night. And then we met for breakfast the next morning at the Waffle Spot. Then we shopped a little and had a coffee and found an excuse to buy shoes. I scurried home for a nap. Then it was time to head north for Bernadette Peters' dazzling performance at the Orange County Performing Arts Center. Then it was time to drive home. Then there was daylight savings time to be dealt with. And running to be not shirked. And lunch to be made. And shopping errands to finish up. And a laborious drive back up to my proper home. And all the clocks in the house to reset. And a mirror to hang. And unpacking to do. And a program to watch. And a phone call or two to have.

If I just lay all the events out on the table, it seems like plenty happened. But somehow, I leave this weekend feeling -- as I often do -- that not enough was accomplished and not enough time remains. From Friday night until now, I only slept about nine hours. Why should I feel concern that I am lazy or lacking in industry? Even on the days when I have something to show for the time, I sniff at it and wish it might be something more. Dissatisfaction courses through me like the fuel it is. The catalyst of my ambition and my accomplishment. I am always looking forward, because I am always hoping for more. I am always reaching, because I covet what lies just beyond my grasp.

I have everything and nothing to prove. And many more windmills to fight.