I've come to the conclusion that there's an actual upside to working long hours: By the time I get home, there's just enough time to eat dinner and relax before going to bed without getting bored in the process.

In other words, I'm actually being a bit productive during the evening hours, without wearing myself out completely.

And, as a bonus, I am finally digging into my too-high pile of unread books. Right now, I'm into Nina Schuyler's "The Painting," which takes place in 1869. The action shifts from Japan -- where a ceramic artist lives with his wife, who paints to escape from her life -- to France -- where a wounded veteran originally from Denmark catalogs a Paris shop's incoming shipments, including a ceramic bowl wrapped in a beautiful painting -- as two simultaneous stories are told. I'm not that far into it, but so far, so good. I'll give more of my thoughts when I'm done