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Saturday, February 15, 2003

The plan was to get a whole lot of work done today. It's Saturday, and the usual weekday nterruptions don't apply. I could make up for all the time that was wasted for me (okay, by me) all week. Good plan, right?

If it's such a good plan, why did I get so little done today? I should probably broaden my plans a bit, to include not staying up the night before watching Lilo and Stitch two and a half times, so that I ended up sleeping in until after ten this morning. (Oh, but I did love that movie, and the extras on the DVD made me laugh and cry almost as much as the film itself.)

The plan should also have some provision for the lack of motivation I have on a gray, gloomy day. You might think a bright and sunny one would make me less eager to stay in and work. Well, that might be true, but we haven't had enough of those lately to test the theory. Between the depressing weather and the hangover from another sleepless night, I didn't get a lot done today.

That's not to say I didn't do any work. The Boss faxed me a job cost outline I've been asking him for for weeks. I asked him again yesterday afternoon, and he said he'd have it before Monday. So I can't complain that it was sitting in my fax tray when I got up this morning. It's the basis for two other reports I've been trying to finish but couldn't do without it. I finished one of the two, which is a kind of triumph considering how much I felt like crawling back into bed.

I went up into the loft and read for awhile this afternoon, but it gets dark so early on days like this that I had to quit. I watched My Big Fat Greek Wedding, which was a pleasant enough diversion for an hour and a half.

Then the guilt hit me and I worked on my spreadsheets for a few minutes. I would have worked longer, but I ran up against some missing information. I'd asked Tim two weeks ago about his January expenses and he'd promised to get back to me as soon as he had time. I could have kept going on today's project without his notes, but I'd have ended up having to redo it when he finally does get back to me.

That's the way it's been every month, him making promises and me having to do the same report twice because his promises don't mean anything. I wish he wouldn't even make promises in the first place.

Several times over the last year I've had to guess at the information on his expenses. I'm sure this will come back to bite me, once the Boss gets his hands on the year-end accounting that I'm working on now. He'll get into his what's this-what's that mode, and my answer will be, "I had to make a guess because Your Son didn't give me the help he promised."

This gets Tim in trouble with the Boss, and then it gets me in trouble with Tim. He can complicate my life in ways I don't even want to think about, if I don't somehow keep him from looking bad in front of the Boss. I'm the least important side of this lopsided triangle, so my options are limited. Somebody's going to be unhappy, and it's just easier if it's me.

looking up

Looking straight up through the tangled winter branches of an oak and a birch growing side by side.

So that's how the best-laid plans can get cut short by the slightest nudge in the wrong direction. It's an unsatisfying way to spend the day, and if I'd known it would turn out this way, I'd have made other plans. I'd probably have planned to sleep until noon and then take a nap that would last the whole afternoon. That would have been a good plan, and an easy one to hold to.

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I wonder what kind of plan I should make for tomorrow. If the weather would cooperate, I'd get out in the yard and do some maintenance work. What I'd really like to do is wash my car, but that's hardly a useful project while it's still raining and the driveway is still muddy. Maybe it's time for another movie.

Recent recommendations can always be found on the links page.

One year ago: Time to Move On
"NBC has three networks covering the Olympics. You'd think one of them could have covered the curling instead of the IOC press conference this morning."

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Oh, at the houses of Parliament,
Ev'rybody's talkin' 'bout the president,
We all chip in for a bag of cement.