Thursday, January 12, 2006
A smell of oiled wood and moist dust
The days have been getting better, slowly coming up from a fantastically dismal pit the day before yesterday. At work, issues about getting decisions and juggling people. A friend is in difficult straits. The days are busy without breaks.
...The litany of things I'm willing to talk about here is long, but I don't like getting into specifics tonight -- so my bitching sounds like a list of fortune cookie sayings from the Dark Side, written by a vindictive clerk in a small room who longs to be a James Bond Villain.
Communication is impeded. An exciting opportunity is withdrawn. You will spend a day with seven surly teens.