There's a difference between coming into the office feeling good on a blood curdling screaming me! me! day when you're short handed and coming into the office feeling down and depressed on a blood curdling screaming me! me! day when you're short handed. Better to go in feeling good as I did today although it's still less than a thrill, no urge to walk into another one tomorrow. Please.
No good words comes to mind. Just - wham! wham! wham! - all the day, all the time, take an hour for lunch because if you don't you feel you won't survive the afternoon. "Blood curdling" doesn't really cut it, but I'll come up with many a more before it's over.
No money in the city coffers has led to cutting two of the three bus lines that ran along my street and on to the office. The one line they've retained runs once every thirty minutes. It takes about thirty minutes for me to walk. So I walk. A lot. Today, both ways. I don't like the fact they've cut the busses, but I appreciate the fact I'm walking. I think my body appreciates the fact I'm walking, although my feet can get sore. I think my brain appreciates the fact I'm walking, at least after the fact. Something to do with endorphines or hormones or something. Exercise squirts them into the brain and the stress of the day dissolves. Well, exercise followed by a couple of whiskies and the whole day dissolves. One should be accurate.
Not much else to say. A couple at work want me to shoot their portrait this weekend after next. Time enough to test and practice. I may order the two person posing stool I saw in the catalog. It's crazy, but I'll do it anyway. I should have the digital be back by then too. Doodle-dee-do.
Enough of the fucking doodle-dee-do's.