I am sitting in the garden, crying. It is a Tuesday. Or a Wednesday. I’m not sure anymore. I’m supposed to be working. I am always supposed to be working. But something in me has stopped cooperating. I can’t make myself go back inside. So I sit. And I cry. And I don’t really know why. I am a senior accountant. I have been one for over twenty years. I am reliable. Thorough. I don’t take time off. I don’t complain. I press on. Until, one day, I don’t. The promotion I had spent