My hands are up and I'm guilty. The very thought of this word eats right through me and I find myself spinning my little wheels as fast as I can and lay my head on my pillow, more nights than not, only to feel a sense of utter failure. Sure I may have waken before the sun, worked a 10 hour day, responded to all of my personal emails, may have even whacked out a blog post or two, updated my social media accounts, Facetimed home, squeezed in a quick workout, whipped up a dinner, tidied up and had a convo with S to catch up on our day and life in general, and yet I fall asleep feeling completely unaccomplished. I mean the laundry wasn't touched, I didn't have time to call and catch up with that friend, my to-do list still looks like a brainstorm, my closet looks like some kind of war zone, things at work are still looming over my head, my blog needs nurtured and could use an update and lets be honest the dinner was much less than a 5 star steakhouse. Woosh.