A storm in a teacup
As you know, I normally parade about being big and clever. Today, however, I was small and stupid. This despite waking up in the middle of the night and working on pitch stuff between 3-4am. Turns out I need not have bothered. All our stuff got sidelined or reworked. And the result of three weeks oppressive slog was zero. Felt humiliated and left the office to go to the graveyard where I satst brooding on the vast Abyss.
After a while I realised that nobody had died, and that I have lots of holiday coming up (paid for by the agency) and so there are many reasons to be cheerful. But this storm in a teacup did not prevent me from going around with a face like a smacked arse for rest of the day.
But the day wasn't all bad. I had a short walk with Trace during the day, telling me about her forthcoming trip to China to do martial arts which was nice. And getting home at a reasonable time was wonderful.
But then I heard the results of the Front Row 100 word story competition and, in an affront to all that is right-minded and decent in the world, I had not won. For some reason this was final confirmation that I was destined to a life of mediocrity, obscurity and failure.
However I had a short but immensely heartening conversation with Sprinkles, and then went to bed at the unfeasibly early time of 9:30, for I was dog tired.
As you know, I normally parade about being big and clever. Today, however, I was small and stupid. This despite waking up in the middle of the night and working on pitch stuff between 3-4am. Turns out I need not have bothered. All our stuff got sidelined or reworked. And the result of three weeks oppressive slog was zero. Felt humiliated and left the office to go to the graveyard where I satst brooding on the vast Abyss.
After a while I realised that nobody had died, and that I have lots of holiday coming up (paid for by the agency) and so there are many reasons to be cheerful. But this storm in a teacup did not prevent me from going around with a face like a smacked arse for rest of the day.
But the day wasn't all bad. I had a short walk with Trace during the day, telling me about her forthcoming trip to China to do martial arts which was nice. And getting home at a reasonable time was wonderful.
But then I heard the results of the Front Row 100 word story competition and, in an affront to all that is right-minded and decent in the world, I had not won. For some reason this was final confirmation that I was destined to a life of mediocrity, obscurity and failure.
However I had a short but immensely heartening conversation with Sprinkles, and then went to bed at the unfeasibly early time of 9:30, for I was dog tired.
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