Where would your "end" be...

I just got back from my writing class. Not the writing group. The writing class. If you are confused, please refer to previous posts. My "Broken Mirror" story got critiqued so I did what I always do (unless there's something better to do)--go to a cafe, order a latte and rewrite, while the comments are fresh in my mind. "If you did this in college, where would your end be," my mother would say to this disciplined routine I am actually quite proud of. The end in this saying being everything possible you could accomplish in life, the end of your possibilities. I don't believe I have any. But that's another story...
So, I'm half down my latte, having had to do something for The New Yorker assignment first (The New Yorker comes first, which is a frequent conflict in my marriage. So does my writing, my cats, my Yoga...), but I also have another 352 things to do today. Still, I'm going to attempt to rewrite my story first, and the rest will have to wait for a couple of hours.
An interesting thing happened in class today--my teacher singled out my favorite part of my story as her favorite. I thought that was very encouraging. And my beginning was a little slow, so now I think I know where and how to restart. And re-end. And while I'm writing about rewriting, I'm getting excited about it. I know, I'm a freak. But that excitement makes me think I'm exactly where I need to be, doing exactly what I need to do. Right?