We were binge-watching season three of The Diplomat last night when a stray thought punched me in the gut: “One more episode and then I really ought to go to bed, so I can get some sleep before I have to get up for work tomorrow.” My stomach knotted up, even, from thinking about going back to work. Which is weird, considering I’m retired.

It was just an end-of-the-week reflex. Like muscle memory, but for existential dread. I brushed it off with a shake of my head. But it was a really weird feeling.