bunt sign

Wednesday, June 13, 2001

I've started this entry twice, making a little less sense each time. (Let's hope that trend takes a sudden turn in the opposite direction.) I guess I'm just not in a philosophical mood today. And the only thing I did that was different from any other day was to get a new battery for my watch. I've been timeless since last Friday, and don't think it hasn't been a little disorienting.

The Boss is on the road again, throwing his weight around on a job site where progress hasn't been to his liking. So I didn't hear from him except first thing this morning and then late in the afternoon, when he managed to tick me off. I was winding down the latest round of affirmative action compliance work, and he called and had a crisis that wasn't a crisis.

He does that all the time. He thinks too much, and whatever is on his mind becomes the most important thing in the world, and it has to be handled right now or disaster will strike us down and trample us. So he's sitting in his truck, dictating a letter for me to type and fax, so that he can get a signature from a customer who has already sent us a five thousand dollar deposit.

It seemed a little paranoid to me, suddenly needing a signed contract with someone who's paid us in advance, but paranoia is a way of life around here. Everything has to be in writing. We're suspicious of everyone, including ourselves. I've had casual conversations with him that concluded with him telling me to write down what we said. And sign it. And give him a copy to sign, too.

Yes, it's a rather restricted version of real life that exists within the Boss's narrow field of vision, but we make up for it by putting every tick and gnat under the microscope.

If I'd been in a better mood, this little interruption wouldn't have bothered me. If I'd had more sleep last night, it wouldn't have mattered. If I hadn't been in the middle of doing something I didn't want to do in the first place, I could have handled it better. Truthfully, none of these reasons is good enough. It shouldn't have got to me no matter what the excuse. I shouldn't have let it.

The only thing I threw across the room was one sofa cushion, and it did no damage. I knocked over one harmless dining room chair. So all in all, considering everything (including my own track record), I think I handled it pretty well. What once might have been a tempest remained a brief squall. I'll take my little victories where I can get them.

from the middle of my driveway

Not bad. I kept it short, anyway. And I filled up the page, and kept the streak alive. This could have been a lot worse. (You'll have to trust me on that.)

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