Monday, November 19, 2007

To the Breach

It awaits. The 279 e-mails that have been put into your inbox that require some kind of attention. And then requiring filing into folders. For every hour I spend writing notes and e-mails and letters, I spend twenty thinking about it. I compose in my head. I think about how much nicer it would be to write actual letters. I fret over where I will find actual addresses. I worry if I have one more step, that is finding actual addresses, it will be years before I get anything done. It goes on and on.

This morning I had a dentist appointment at 7:30. I am NOT a morning person and definitely NOT a dentist person. I thought perhaps if I went so early it would make things better, not being fully conscious to worry about my teeth, the pain, and the future pain therein.

It was worse. I was cold. I didn't get breakfast. Riding my bike to the dentist woke me up sufficiently to worry and feel pain both. I got bad news.

However, the bad news didn't take long, and I was home by 8. My computer staring at me. I, having faced the worst already, sat down and charged through correspondence. At least a quarter of it. And the day is still young.

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