I love my job. Sort of. I don't love actually going to work. I think the perfect job would be one that you could hold and yet not actually have to go to the office except to pick up the pay check ... which upon second thought, the perfect job would not need an office at all!~
But as reflect on today I realize that life is rich and fragile even though I go to the office. By 8 this morning I was in a conversation about unfaithfulness and brokenheartedness with a woman who knows both experiences too well. The day ended with a devastating disclosure of unfaithfulness of another kind. Trailing alongside and around these bookends was some stimulating conversation, problem solving, and thoughtful listening. And one piece of Dove dark chocolate.
In the middle of the afternoon my lovely assistant and I walked to the bank in the sunshine and on the way back bought two egg rolls from the Great Wall (not the real Great Wall you understand) and shared a greasy treat and some big laughs. Stolen time. Not really stolen, it was a well deserved break. And the bank is only three minutes away.
When I came home there was a realtor next door showing the house our friends are anxious to sell, and Steve was outside in shirt tails and socks, smiling, happy to see me. We played a game of scrabble which he won, while we talked about Bunny's first day of chemo and who Steve gave my lilies to. For a reward, as the winner of scrabble, he got to do the dishes. I headed off to Jazzercise but unfortunately stopped to lay on the couch for just a moment and alas, did not get up in time to get to the Jazz class. Eventually I got cold and had a hot bath and put on my pj's. It seemed to be the right thing to do. All that and it is now only 7:32.
A pretty nice day really. My paper for Epiphany is almost done, and I am making a list of things to take to the beach next week.
I guess what I am saying, besides the fact that I have not one profound thing to write on this blog, is that I love my job. Sort of. And I love my life.