I seem to have lost my sense of humor, along with my senses of balance and patience and equanimity. That’s four of the nine sense right there, and my hearing and sight are fading as well. Soon I will only be able to touch, taste and smell, but those are some pretty important senses, so I guess I can make do. It would be a lot easier if I could still cope with life’s little bumps.

Not only is this a short work week, but there are some people in the company who seem determined to make it even shorter. I guess if Tim is going to lay off his whole crew until January, maybe he doesn’t care if they get paid for last week before then. He’s off handing out cash bonuses while I’m sitting here waiting for him to fax me time cards. Not getting them until after 7:30 pm means that I get to stay up until midnight doing the payroll, so that it can be mailed off tomorrow morning.

This comes about a month after he made a solemn promise to get the time cards to me on Monday morning. When morning turns to night, it never fails that night turns into morning again before I’m out from under the whip. It’s not as if I’m going to shirk my duty, just because everybody else shirks theirs. It’s sort of my trademark, being able to cope with whatever they throw my way, at any hour of the day or night. It what keeps me from feeling guilty about taking their money, even on days when I sleep an hour late and take an hour’s nap.

So if I’ve lost my sense of humor, I have good reason for it. If my patience has been worn thin, it’s only because it’s been stretched to the limit. If I’m thrown off balance every time yet another telemarketer makes the phone jangle in my ear just as I’m about to complete some delicate task like finishing a column of numbers — well, maybe it’s just as well that it happens during a short week, because the sooner the weekend gets here, the sooner I’ll be able to get some of my senses back.