Maybe ‘happy’ isn’t quite the word I’m digging for here.

I am descended from a long line of laborers.

All the traceable distance into my family history it’s laborers, mill workers and carpenters and the like. From the putative foundation of the North American Bedard stock, Isaac Bedard who was a master carpenter near Quebec City after leaving La Rochelle right on down to my Dad who has been carpentering himself for the last 40 years or so. Sidebar: My Dad TOTALLY just made this (non-carpentering division):

I forget sometimes that I come from a line of folks more accustomed to using their bodies in their work.

My brain is my primary muscle and there are plenty of days when it gets good and tired.
But in the course of my day-to-day I do very little that could be construed as physical labor. Part of my ongoing war with sleep is that my body doesn’t get physically tired quickly enough to get more than the 4 or so hours I get now.

But the puppets will take it right out of you.
This weekend was a long weekend of rehearsal for The Head, including a designer run on Sunday. I was just physically wrung out.

While there’s something terribly sad about 8 good hours of (effectively) puppet yoga over two days crushing you physically… there’s something so lovely about feeling physically tired from your day of work.