But wow, was I cranky.
1) True response to e-mail from client requesting statement:
"What the F#$%?!"2) True response to an e-mail from a co-worker asking the status of an account opening:
"What the F#$%?!"3) True (muttered under breath) response to boss, asking when I was going to send out the client Christmas cards:
"What the F#$%?!"I wanted to write a blog entry, and then realized that it would be one big whine. So I didn't write anything. This resulted in more crankiness...for leading such a blah existence. At least 15 times I thought: "I so wish I had a story about randomly making-out in the men's bathroom with someone I shouldn't be making out with."
(Tomorrow: the company Christmas party. Always a ripe field for such possibilities...)
While in Manhattan with Joshua on Sunday, I spent $4 at the Strand Bookstore's half-price table on Fifth Avenue for The Final Days, Woodward & Bernstein's blow-by-blow of Watergate, told from inside President Nixon's circle. I've been devouring it ever since.....on the Greyhound back to Boston, on the #9 to work, in the bathtub, while falling asleep on my sofa last night after a very full glass of merlot.
Which leads to the other prevailing thought I also thought (more than) 15 times yesterday:
"So.. this is a bad day. But hell. Richard Nixon had like 638 bad days....in a row.....and every one containing a special prosecutor and a Congressional committee and the Vietnam Conflict and inflation and a sense that he was being tormented by his enemies. He even had to quit the presidency....
...and still he managed to smile."
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