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Monday, May 19, 2003

Things could not have gone any better today. Nobody made any demands or put any stress on me any more than the stress I put on myself. And it was all over, every critical task completed with success and satisfaction, before two in the afternoon.

So why did I feel, at 2:05, as if I'd spent the day dangling from a live medium-voltage wire? Why did I feel as if someone had been bashing me about the face with a soft rubber mallet? Why did I feel as if I'd spent a little too much time locked in a sauna, and not one of the pleasant, family-oriented Finnish ones with the snow right outside the door so you can cool off quickly, but one of those dank, musky Turkish ones with the rusty overhead fan that doesn't work and stuff growing on the walls?


Okay, don't answer that. I know why.

I felt that way because I'd been building up the confluence of obligations today into something mighty and menacing, like a river of mud rolling down a hill. How could I be in two places at once? How can I be in all the places I need to be when my car is in the shop? How might I possibly be able to get our bid proposal in the overnight mail, drop off and pick up my car from the dealer, and make my first trip to the post office in three days, all within less time than I usually have available for one of those endeavors?

I don't know, but with Mom's help I did it. I ordered her around like a taxi driver all morning, and she didn't flip me off or cuss me out, not even once. She even pretended to like it! I just hope that, once it was done and the pressure was off, she didn't collapse into a puddle of goo, the way I did. I'll be all right tomorrow, but today was a little more stressful than it needed to be. I have no one to blame but myself this time, though.

16 May 03

The front of the house from the back of the garden.

On the other hand, I was in an unaccountably good mood from about four o'clock on. I worked until seven or so, picking up some loose ends, and I even found myself chirping merrily when the Boss phoned with some lame new assignment. I guess the relief finally kicked in, once I finally realized the pressure was off. Well, until next time.

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I watched a nifty little independent romantic comedy called Best Man in Grass Creek tonight. When I think about indie films, I usually flash on gritty realism, bizarre camera angles or wooden acting, sometimes all three at once. In this case, the acting by the mostly unknown cast is excellent, the laughs are genuine, and the quirky story of a man afraid of commitment (with good reason) rises above the obvious. And it was filmed on location in Grass Creek, Indiana, which even the people who live there have never heard of.

Recent recommendations can always be found on the links page.

One year ago: Sunday in the Dark
"It went from a quiet house with only the sounds of the rain on the roof and the birds twittering at the feeder, to a full-on full-volume sound tunnel."

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