What a Time

Today was my favorite kind of day. It was pretty busy from arrival to departure. I left work with three more documents to review sitting on my desk, so I'll have something to do as soon as I get in tomorrow. I love days like that. You know, the days that seem to occur elsewhere. You get to work, hunker down, do your stuff, and look up to see the sun has magically shifted from east to west, it's quiet in all the cubes around you, and only the die-hards remain at the helm.

If every day could be like that I would...well, I would probably expire. For certain my back would bow, my eyes would cross, and my shoulders would try to meet in front of me. I need a day every now and then devoted to getting everything back in place before the next round begins.

Am I strange because I love this stuff? I can already imagine a couple of you replying to reassure me. "No, you're not," then going on to say, "you're strange for another reason entirely." Seriously though, I could happily edit for the rest of my life. Some people are so sharp at putting thoughts together and getting them on paper. I like to come in after that. I feel like the literary equivalent of either a shoeshine boy or an auto detailer. I just like to knock the dust and muck off the writing, then shine it up a bit.

Good stuff today. And tomorrow? Wax on. Wax off. Wax on. Wax off. Very good, David-san. (I'm still learning this craft. Gotta find me a Mr. Miyagi.)