The Boss told me this morning how happy he was that my voice on the phone sounded cheerful for a change. "We worry about you," he said. That was when he told me he couldn't meet me at 11:00 am, as planned. The garage door installer was coming to his ex-wife's house, and he wanted to oversee the work.

I cheerfully told him that I was open to meeting later in the day, and he said he call back within an hour. Five hours later, he let me know he couldn't make it today, and I had to hold my breath and pretend to stay cheerful. I don't know how I managed to get any work done today, because I spent most of it waiting for the phone call that would send me out the door.

He did have an excuse. I can't remember what it was, but I'm sure he had one. Mostly, I think, it would be more conveeenient for him to meet me a little after noon tomorrow, because he has somewhere else he has to be shortly after that. He let it drop that eleven was really too early, because he doesn't feel he has accomplished anything unless he works until at least noon. (I guess he hasn't picked up that I don't even get started until noon.)

So I wonder why he originally said he'd meet me at eleven this morning. Maybe he was worried that I'd fall into a deep depression if he didn't agree to the time I suggested. I know he thinks that whenever he doesn't hear that cheery note in my voice, there must be something wrong. I told him not to worry about me. I'm fine. Just don't lead me on.

Miraculously, all of the deadline stuff is done. It's a day early, even. Now all I have to do is get to work on the reports everyone is asking for. You know, the ones I couldn't do because of all the extra busywork they've been throwing at me every day for the last three months. The ones I promised to get to as soon as I had time. Now I have the time, as long as I'm willing to let the time spill over into the weekend.