The crickets were still chirping and it was dark but Dadda was up so I figured it must be upping time. Squinted at my alarm clock which I forgot to set when I passed out from exhaustion last night and thought it said 6.30. As in late. But it actually said 5.30. As in not so late.
Nevertheless I shifted my carcass out of the warm bed, coming alive, sort of, and wondering how I was going to get through the day.
There is stress and there is stress.
Some things are becoming clearer.
Others remain nebulous.
The office was shut and bolted when I arrived. Apparently you need a key to get in. A tag won't cut it. Not in the wee hours anyway. So I leaned out of the window and waited for someone to come.
Tried calling one of the bosses (only because his number was on my phone) probably not one of my best ideas, especially when he was way stressed. But he didn't answer. Called me back like an hour later, sleep in his voice wanting to know what the matter was.
I said, no matter, I'm in now.
He said, OK, whatever.
I like working with people who understand the tortured revolutions of a frustrated artist.
Ah me, life is simple,
content is wisdom
complaint is awful. (or is it wimple?)
Tostada Sama.
6 comments:
You back to a 9-5 job?
Jenn - 'tortured revolutions' - I love it!
grey shades: yes. but its more like 6 to 10. As in am to pm.
jackie: a little less tortured now.
Are you getting a male secretary?
Nessa: No secretary lar...and anyway, my bosses want to have final say. They didn't take to the girl I selected. Methinks I should do the job myself instead of hiring somebody.
Want to post, but am bone tired.
I understand (about the tired part.) I hope you are liking it so far, even if they won't give you a hottie.
Post a Comment