It’s been crazy-busy the last couple of weeks. Busy is good and crazy I am used to.

The Absynthe Community is off to a good start. If you are an aut or aspie writer, or other ND creative-type, come check it out.

I have also been pleasantly swamped with freelance work this week. You know those articles you read all over the web? I am responsible for some of those. The well-written ones, anyway.

We also got a puppy about six weeks ago. More on him and some pix later.

Milestone #2: JISE is one year old today!
Milestone #3: This is post #200!
Milestone #4: I got my new template just the way I want it!

Today was definitely a good day. Quite possibly one of the best I have had in quite a while. And it was all just little things going well.

Nice how things can work out that way.

Once upon a time there was an administrative savant known as Cally. She could run an office like a finely tuned machine. She enjoyed the challenge and predictability of her work.

Then arrived the monster, a horrible entity known as a PPO which had been fiendishly designed to separate poor Cally from her sanity.

Finally, Cally admitted defeat: the monster could not be tamed nor slain. So she planned her escape and all was going well for her future freedom.

Then, on her last day, arrived the mystery package. It wasn’t really a mystery as far as the contents were concerned: she knew by feel the package had applications. The mystery was, how badly would the applications be screwed up?

So with the tender of the monster near at hand, brave Cally opened the package and determined the three applications inside were indeed very badly done, incomplete and unsigned.

“See, this is what I’m talking about,” Cally said to the tender. “Look at these things! If I hadn’t already given notice, this would have put me right over the edge.”

“Oh, I know,” the tender said sympathetically.

“No, really,” she replied. “I mean it would have put me right over, fire axes, stuff burning, body count, not a good time!”

And so Cally expressed her relief to be free of the monster’s horrific influence, and now plans to live happily ever after and never again work in health care for any amount of money.

I don’t have a lot of friends. I don’t want a lot either. Social interaction, even with people I like, exhausts me, and sometimes I even get something like a hang-over following intense connections.

But there is no doubt that friendship is good for the soul, even for those less socially-dependent like myself. I recently made the acquaintance of a fellow I’ll call “Silent D” who is bright and funny and a pleasure to chat with.

Neither of us is good at small talk, which is fine, because we don’t waste time with frivolity when there are so many interesting things to discuss.

Mood:

Befriended