I’m not inclined to depression – nor do I think I have anything but a great life, no matter what its challenges – but I find myself facing each Friday as if I’d just run a marathon with rocks tied to my ankles.

This is a recent phenomenon. OK, it began when Donald J. Trump became president. For certain, not everything that has happened can be blamed on him – certainly not the three hurricanes (Harvey, Irma, Maria) with Nate waiting in the wings to strike the Gulf Coast this weekend. Or the mass shooting in Las Vegas. But I know I am not alone in saying that we arrive at the finish line each workweek, crawling, panting – drained and depleted. ...

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