Sometimes I overanalyze, and sometimes that leads to feelings I donít especially endorse. If I think too much about how I spend my time during the day, I might feel a bit guilty that I donít keep grinding away for eight hours at the pile of paperwork that I know (I know) needs to be finished. Any guilt I might feel for, say, taking off during the day to find okra for the gumbo Iím making tomorrow is assuaged when the Boss faxes me a three-page letter to type a few minute before six on a dark and dreary Friday night.
Itís not just that I make up for the loss time by working extra hours. Thatís the easiest way to explain why I shouldnít feel guilty, and I use it a lot. But thereís this, too: January and July are my busiest months of the year, because of reports and tax returns that have to be done during those months.
July is a difficult month, but January is exponentially worse, for the simple reason that the days are short in January and long in July. I donít function as well after dark, and it gets dark in the middle of the day this time of year. I react badly to a fax that comes in at six in the evening, after Iíve pretty much given up on getting anything more done that day.
But I did it. I typed the letter and all its several revisions and faxed them back like the loyal (and guilt-ridden) office drone that I am. And I got an appreciative phone call from him a few minutes later, so I knew that even if Iíd fallen short of my own modest standards, Iíd satisfied the person whose opinion counts even more. Thatís a gratifying feeling, although I do feel a little guilty about it.