For no other reason than that it's wonderful to be out on a crisp day like this.
Monday, March 19, 2007
Friday, March 09, 2007
King of Swingers, aka Jungle VIP
Today is different.
Today I left work at 3:30 p.m., without a stab of guilt, indeed, gripped by an overwhelming belief that I deserved to go to the pub for a drink. Or several.
Today I didn't feel the cold.
Today I noticed how the bare branches of trees are beginning to bud.
Today I opened my first new account. The first new account for the company this year. (No doubt, there will be others tomorrow and on Monday, but let me have my moment of glory.)
It's taken only nine months. Nine months of pursuit, occasionally joyous and occasionally wearisome, with periodic highs as we crossed each stage more-or-less unscathed, and frequent, overwhelming setbacks making me want to stay in bed for a month. Much midnight oil burned, and the occasional warning to my boss that I was about to throw myself out of the office windows (which, by the way, can't be opened, presumably to dissuade people like me who shrink from the inconvenience of first needing to throw chairs through windows in order to be able to dispatch themselves thereafter). Nine months. It feels like forever.
But it's all been worth it. :) I feel like a king. A somewhat drunk king, about to drink some more. Let there be light. Goodwill on earth and peace to all mankind. Bring on the dancing girls with their hoola hoops and war-whoops and paint the town red. I certainly will!
Update:
The town has been painted red. The dancing girls are wearily whooping their way back to wherever they came from. The documents are signed. And now, back to the program.
Today I left work at 3:30 p.m., without a stab of guilt, indeed, gripped by an overwhelming belief that I deserved to go to the pub for a drink. Or several.
Today I didn't feel the cold.
Today I noticed how the bare branches of trees are beginning to bud.
Today I opened my first new account. The first new account for the company this year. (No doubt, there will be others tomorrow and on Monday, but let me have my moment of glory.)
It's taken only nine months. Nine months of pursuit, occasionally joyous and occasionally wearisome, with periodic highs as we crossed each stage more-or-less unscathed, and frequent, overwhelming setbacks making me want to stay in bed for a month. Much midnight oil burned, and the occasional warning to my boss that I was about to throw myself out of the office windows (which, by the way, can't be opened, presumably to dissuade people like me who shrink from the inconvenience of first needing to throw chairs through windows in order to be able to dispatch themselves thereafter). Nine months. It feels like forever.
But it's all been worth it. :) I feel like a king. A somewhat drunk king, about to drink some more. Let there be light. Goodwill on earth and peace to all mankind. Bring on the dancing girls with their hoola hoops and war-whoops and paint the town red. I certainly will!
Update:
The town has been painted red. The dancing girls are wearily whooping their way back to wherever they came from. The documents are signed. And now, back to the program.
Saturday, March 03, 2007
The Writing On The Wall
Is it a sign of the how addicted I am to work, or of how sad my life has become, that I find myself, at 10:44 p.m. on a Friday night, after returning from dinner with a friend, standing at my kitchen counter (I still haven't invested in furniture), laptop open, feeding in forecasts and filling in the CRM? Calling R to discuss the numbers before sending them out, my brain filling with thoughts of where those remaining numbers, the difference between the forecast and the target, are going to come from? Tea grown cold next to me, suitcase unpacked since I got back home last night, a book, face-down next to the laptop, not quite as enthralling as the calculations in my head?
Ze addiction, she is alive and well.
Ze addiction, she is alive and well.
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