On Sunday I went to a cook-out of a friend’s house on the water. Much rum was consumed, and it was good. Of course, the main thing people wanted to talk about was Katrina and the government’s failure (particularly at the highest levels), so my stress didn’t fall as much as I had hoped.
Yesterday I spent some time with my father, enjoying some imported Kentucky barbecue. And working. In fact, I ended up working Saturday, Sunday, and Monday. I would say I need a union, but why risk my job? Besides, it’s my own fault. If I could just get over my pathological need to take responsibility for my work, I would be able to work from 9-6 five days a week like a normal person.
But if I haven’t been able to stop caring after nearly ten years with the company, I doubt I’m going to start any time soon.
