Time Passes Slowly

NOT!

Just as Kathleen says in You've Got Mail: "When you read a book as a child it becomes part of your identity in a way that no other reading in your life does."  One of my favorite "sayings" came from a book I read as a child.  It actually is some lyrics of a Bob Dylan song:

Time passes slowly up here in the mountains,

We sit beside bridges and walk beside fountains.

We watch little fishes as they float up the stream.

Time passes slowly when you're lost in a dream.

When I get home, I'm going to download that song since I've never heard of it.

Anyway--I digress.

There's this gal in my office who has been bustling around here all day.  Frantically working to get some literature packed up.  Because it ships out on the 7th.

I, too, have literature that will be shipping out along with her stuff on the 7th.  But I'm not panicking.  Because September 7th is next Friday.
Instead, I'm trying to organize marketing efforts for an event I have in October.

I'm sitting at my computer composing a lengthy email outlining the seminar needs and topic for the October event when Bustling Gal stops by to show my this nifty shipping tube she purchased for the umbrellas.  It's cool.  And then she informs me that the lot of the literature will ship out on Tuesday.  And just before I start going off on her because someone changed the date reality hits me:  The 7th is not next Friday.  It's Tuesday.

TUESDAY.

TOOOZDay.

Too-soon-Day.

Cause I though I had over a week to get my stuff around.
But by Tuesday?  Seriously?

Seriously.
Seriously.

I'm in serious trouble.

Give me some time.

There's this chick who works in another department who uses the statistics from my seminars for proposal writing (fund raising) purposes.

And - without fail - she will request information on a program BEFORE I have time to complete follow-up.

Seriously.  Give me a minute to breathe.

Caught

According to policy, we get an hour lunch and two fifteen minute breaks.
But they repurposed our break room so there's no where to steal away for a break.

So I choose a moment to de-stress by heading over to my blog.
Only to have whathisname walk by and I can tell by the way his gait falters that he's seen my screen and thinks I'm goofing off.

Maybe I need to put out a sign:  "I'm on a break."

There must be a way to update blogs by email.  If I could take a break without feeling guilty maybe I could figure it out.

Seriously.

Do Over

I spend time creating a blog, and then wish I could easily go back and change the layout. 
Ditto for:

--my furniture
--my office files
--my outfit this morning
--my shoes today
--my hair today
--what I packed for lunch.

I have a training meeting this afternoon where I need to show some students how to set up a display.  Think lots of bending and reaching and stretching. 
And guess what I'm wearing?

You got it, Sis, a too-low-cut shirt. 
And a purple bra.

It's gonna be fun.....

To the End

I spend all this time composing a thorough email.  Poring over details and proofing my work. Making sure I haven't overlooked anything, so that the reader need only to read the message to have all the information they need to do their job, or to move forward on a project.

The receiver opens the email.
Then promptly sends you a reply asking the very questions that are already answered IN YOUR ORIGINAL message.  Obviously, they didn't read it.

THEY DIDN'T READ IT!

SERIOUSLY?????????????????????????????