Today was a quintessential weary publicist day. I woke up slightly hungover from family visits, marathon training, birthday celebrating, good food and yes, perhaps too much tequila. It was once again monsooning in Atlanta (seriously--when did this city turn into Seattle?), running on maaaaybe four hours of sleep and nursing some pretty nasty hives. All I really wanted to do was go put on my flannel pajamas, curl up under the warm blanket and make it all go away.
But I fought the urge. I promised myself I could take a nap once I finished up a 3pm call with a potential new client.
And then amazing things started happening. Seredindipidous things. The details of which aren't important.
The important thing is that I got out of bed. I tried. I strove. I persevered.
And the universe listened.