(Written 21 January 1998. Published in the Neighborhood Journal. Posted and editorial comments added 28 July 2006.)
COMMENT (28
July 2006) This ranks as one of the
worst columns I ever wrote. At this
moment in time, I had just been escorted out of Cabot amid a cloud of
innuendos, and in general my life was in the toilet. Writing was no longer fun, but an obligation. As Ray Davies once said, “I was working at
the factory…” I have decided to post
this to show you the extremes. Compare
this to some of the 2003 Oklahoma columns, and one word comes to mind, but
because it is considered vulgar, here is the two word equivalent: raw sewage.
I have exactly 30 minutes to write
this week's column. Deadlines are fast
approaching. This seems to be the story
of my life of late--play catch up.
Why? Several reasons actually.
First, when you take time off, it comes back to get you in the end. Of the past five weeks, two were spent
outside of the state of Arkansas. The
result? Christmas decorations staying
up until mid-January. (I just told folks
that, in the name of ecumenicism, I was celebrating Orthodox Christmas as
well.)
And rushing. Constant rushing. Trying to make up for the lost time, which we all know is a
Herculean task.
Which is why I am now behind the
eight-ball. As the Editors can tell
you, it seems to be the norm for me of late.
Call it too many coals in the
fire. Too much to do, not enough time
to do it. Or any other hackneyed and
jaded phrase you wish. All I know is
that I am in trouble. Big trouble. I am quickly, very quickly running out of
time.
I would like to blame it on the
fact that I was out-of-pocket for those two weeks. I would like to blame in on the fact that I have been working 50
plus hours the weeks when I am in Arkansas.
(And, being self-employed, I work through holidays and weekends,
too.) Blame it on my
forgetfulness. Or my lack of
organization. Blame it on anything you
want, really. It doesn't matter; I'm still running late.
I keep trying to fool myself that
next week will be different. This week
is exceptional because I am trying to make up for the lost time of last
week. But, honestly, it wouldn't really
matter if I had been in town every week, knowing me, I would still probably
find myself in this predicament.
Oh well, I might as well not
complain about it. After all, it is
part of my being, part of what makes me me, part of my person that can
sometimes cause great consternation to those who are better organized than I am
(such as Mrs. Schrader).
Whew! I made it! It may be
somewhat short, but I made it! Maybe
I'll do better next week!