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Tuesday, November 18, 2003

Okay, everything is officially happening too fast. Maybe it's because I dropped off the planet for a week and a half. I don't know. Suddenly it's time for holidays and birthdays and anniversaries, one right after another until about 2004 or so. And suddenly that very important wedding is a little over a month and a half away.

Scary, isn't it? And that's not even mentioning work. Which I will do now, in the form of a silent scream.


Well, almost silent, anyway. The Boss has already started obsessing about year-end accounting. He wants reports and spreadsheets that I can't even start working on until after the year officially ends, and I can't do anything about that date. Apparently December 31 is pretty much set in stone.

Old rant: Maybe if I had a commercial accounting and job costing software program I could do what he wants. But I don't, so I can't. And the reason I don't is that he doesn't trust them. He trusts me to do it right, and now he wants me to do it fast, too. Is there no end to the pressure?

I mentioned yesterday that autumn had tightened its grip while I was gone. That's just a minor quibble with the ways of the universe compared to the naked reality that hit me today. I have so much to do, and so little time. And yet I still insist on watching General Hospital every afternoon. What in the world is wrong with me?

11 November 2003

Cabo Wabo (in Cabo San Lucas), from across the street.

This petty panic attack is brought to you by the letter Z. As in, I still haven't caught up on sleep, and it's creeping into the corners of my life. While I was on the planet Vacation, it seemed that I'd dropped out of real life and into a warmer, softer, friendlier world. Then I got dropped back into this one and it's been a bit of a shock, like a rock hitting the windshield. So far I'm not cracking, though.

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