Springtime in San Francisco
I didn't think things could get any worse after I found that mouse in my shoe a few nights ago. They didn't, and I've survived this long. It's now Easter Sunday, or just Easter. Schwesterlein and Brüderlein are coming to San Francisco so that the greater part of our family can have dinner together. Often the House on Santa Marina Street hosts a cookout and people get very drunk. That will not happen this year, and it's a good thing, too, because I can't miss work tomorrow.
My job is taking a new turn, and I'm uncharacteristically optimistic that I might really start to enjoy, at least a little bit, what I have to do every day. For a while (this was nearly two years ago) I was so afraid to go to work I would stare at the ceiling all night trying to think of reasons not to go, and then I'd wake up the next morning, sleepy and having to drag my weary hide into that basement. Now I do sometimes spend the night thinking about work, but it's not with the former dread. Work (actually, it wasn't work that was my problem, just my job and the environment in which I worked) has become just the bothersome necessity it ought to be.
I was talking with a co-worker the other day, and I said that the best one should hope for in a job is that even if you don't like it, you don't suffer at it. Those who find work they love are fortunate, but those who find work they can tolerate without wanting to weep in the bathroom at lunch time are also fortunate. My co-worker didn't really agree with me, but he's also more optimistic than I am, and I think he believes people deserve to be happy rather than not miserable.
I want some Indian food. I've been on an Indian food kick for a while now. If not Indian food, then some other food full of vegetables and very spicy. "I recommend you eat as many vegetables as you possibly can!"
My job is taking a new turn, and I'm uncharacteristically optimistic that I might really start to enjoy, at least a little bit, what I have to do every day. For a while (this was nearly two years ago) I was so afraid to go to work I would stare at the ceiling all night trying to think of reasons not to go, and then I'd wake up the next morning, sleepy and having to drag my weary hide into that basement. Now I do sometimes spend the night thinking about work, but it's not with the former dread. Work (actually, it wasn't work that was my problem, just my job and the environment in which I worked) has become just the bothersome necessity it ought to be.
I was talking with a co-worker the other day, and I said that the best one should hope for in a job is that even if you don't like it, you don't suffer at it. Those who find work they love are fortunate, but those who find work they can tolerate without wanting to weep in the bathroom at lunch time are also fortunate. My co-worker didn't really agree with me, but he's also more optimistic than I am, and I think he believes people deserve to be happy rather than not miserable.
I want some Indian food. I've been on an Indian food kick for a while now. If not Indian food, then some other food full of vegetables and very spicy. "I recommend you eat as many vegetables as you possibly can!"