I was a grasshopper today when I should have been an ant. Actually, I was an ant trying to be a grasshopper, which is much worse.
Whatever. I'm some kind of insect, the kind that works intensely, forgets to take a break, and has to quit early to ice down his neck and back. That's what I am. That kind of insect, grasshopper or ant or cockroach.
I didn't get back to the computer for a long time, either — not to work or read or write or anything. After using the ice (actually a bag of frozen peas) on my neck, I climbed up into the loft to read. I was up there for an hour, about three minutes of reading and 57 of sleeping.
I'm not sure, but I think the reason I worked so steadily without a break (besides the fact that for once I wasn't beset with phone calls every ten minutes) was that it was such a beautiful day out. I had the door open and instead of putting music on the CD player I just listened to the birds. Without having to get up and change the CD every 45 minutes, I didn't have a trigger to tell me when to take a break. So I had my neck in the same position for way too long and paid the price.
The trade-off isn't bad. I got a lot of work done, and I feel as if I've turned a corner or crested the last hill before sliding to the finish. Part of it was the actual work, a series of spreadsheets that give the Company's profit-and-loss picture for last year. The other part was just actually spending a whole day working on it, and realizing that a few more days like this will get it done and off my desk and out of my life.
No, that's a little optimistic. It won't be out of my life until the Boss has reviewed it and challenged it and asked interminable questions about it. He'll twist it and tweak it to make it look better, just like they did at Enron (only without doing anything illegal, of course, and since we're not a public corporation there aren't any investors to fool). Then the accountant will get it and I'll have to answer his questions. Then it'll be out of my life, until I get to start it all over again next year.