It had been a long Friday, and I had no one to blame but myself.

I had stacked my calendar like a Jenga tower—four events in one day, each involving clients I love, and work felt life-giving. But even good things, when piled too high, can become too much.

By the time I finished the final workshop, I was running on fumes. I tore apart my backpack, hoping to find a granola bar. Nothing. I checked my car console. Empty. I even cracked open my glove compartment—a home for forgotten things—still nothing.