Refurbished
I bent down on my knees with the sun at my back, running my hands lightly over the rough wooden surface and then pulling a few small splinters out of the palm of my hand. I had work to do. I had collected six pallets for a do-it-yourself project, and I was going to turn these old beat-up pallets into a bed frame. I wondered where these pallets had been and what kind of loads they had carried as I rubbed the scratchy wooden surfaces in small circular motions with fine sandpaper, and sawdust rose like small whiffs, then blew away with the wind. As I worked, I thought. I thought about my life. For the past few months, I have been working non-stop and running myself ragged. Two weeks ago, I hit a breaking point and took a good look at who I was becoming — a frazzled, frantic, exhausted woman who no longer had any spontaneity, availability, or joy. Seeing who I was becoming scared me. So I did something a little drastic to decrease my stress and create some space. I quit both of ...