Hallelujah, It's the Weekend.

Please please please just let time stop for a few minutes tomorrow so I can try to catch up with everyone else in the world.
If I had 15 spare minutes, twenty-four-and-a-quarter hours, but everybody else only got the regular 24, I might be able to feel good.
I could sleep for 15 minutes without hating myself for wasting time, even though I waste more time awake.
If I had those 15 minutes just for myself, I might be able to be nice to people, and enjoy being around them. I hate how exhausting people are.
I'd like to like them, but they wear me out, grind me down to dullness. And then?
Then I write blathering blog posts and feel sorry for myself, and that's too bad. I'll never get anything done, and my tombstone will say

Here lies 
James Elliott Rice
who would have done many things
but just got 
Plumb Tuckered Out


Habakkuk 3

Though the fig tree should not blossom, nor fruit be on the vines,
The produce of the olive fail and the fields yield no food,
The flock be cut off from the fold and there be no herd in the stalls,
Yet I will rejoice in the LORD; I will take joy in the God of my salvation.
GOD, the Lord, is my strength; he makes my feet like the deer's; he makes me tread on my high places.