This article is courtesy of HomeLife magazine.
by Constance Rhodes
The other day, I ran into a friend I hadn’t seen in a while. “How are things?” Greg asked, as we waited in line at Starbucks. “CRAZY!” I answered. “But, good!” I hastily added, as if to assure both of us that while I was indeed busy, I had it all under control.
As I began rattling off the things that were going on in my life, an unmistakable flash of concern crossed Greg’s face.
“Are you OK?” he asked. “You look a little thin.”
“I’m fine,” I assured him. “I’ve just been working a lot.” And I had been. So much, in fact, that I hadn’t eaten or slept well for longer than I could remember. The truth was I had unwittingly fallen victim to a newly named disease: Hurry Sickness.
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