The climb is part of the crest

A sharper realization of an oft-made point more or less whacked me upside the head earlier this evening. I stayed up later than I should have last night, and was at work about two hours later than normal tonight. Two different projects were in flight, but they shared a goal: Smashing through the "Now what the heck was I doing here, again???" barrier.

The reward was the end of the slog, by which I mean (mentally) duct-taping together all the pieces of someone else's work, to do what needed doing. Now it's all downhill--in the good sense of the term. On the drive home, I jokingly thought, "I could get addicted to that feeling." But the truth is that the cresting of both hills would never have happened without the work that went before (plus several short washes down the waterspout and itsy-bitsy climbs back up). Or, in terms less musical and mime-prone, the not-so-very-addictive part.

Pity, that. It wouldn't be the noisiest monkey I could have on my back...