"If you must have motivation, think of your paycheck on Friday."Â
— Noel Coward
Sitting here looking at my poor dictaphone on life support, plugged into the laptop to see if it'll charge. The poor girl took a ride in the washing machine last night, and although her lights flickered a little when I plugged her in she's dark now, and it feels as hopeless as the guy I saw in the ICU back in my chaplain days, on life support after spending forty-five minutes at the bottom of the swimming pool. He wasn't coming back either, but you have to try.
Good thing I have two of these things.
The fog's really thick out there this morning.
It started setting up by one. I should know. I was awake to watch it.
This night included some of the worst insomnia I've had in a very long time, lying there until five before falling back to sleep for a little under two hours. Too much going horribly wrong right now--the new firm transition presents one disaster (uh, if I'm trying to be positive, "challenge") after another, a change in the civil procedure rules led to a late filing that led to a screaming client on the phone late yesterday afternoon, the party barn has pretty much soaked up a healthy end-of-year bonus I'd counted on to float us during my work changes, the country has fallen under the control of a drug-addled man-boy oligarch. I could go on.
Oh, and this fog? I'd considered trying to fly home after work, but someone insanely scheduled an in-person mediation at one central this afternoon, meaning I wouldn't be in the air out of Perry until maybe seven or seven thirty at best, and in the pattern in New York after midnight, long after the tower crew has gone home for the evening. I need to stay at the farm tonight, lose yet another night with P, and get up very early to fly back. Freezing rain is in the forecast for Corning tomorrow, so it's anyone's guess whether I'll actually get there or find myself stranded somewhere in the hills of Pennsyltucky, at a Motel 6 sleeping off a dozen Iron City beers shared with some MAGA person at the local Elks Lodge while I wait for the winter weather to subside a little.
Yeah, things are pretty bad.
Time to go to the U-Haul place to buy some boxes and tape, and get my stuff out of the old office before a conference call and then a board meeting up at Venture Crossings this morning. I'll haul my junk in the back of the truck back to Perry this evening, leave it in the hangar, and while I'm there pull out the plane, refuel it, and be ready to greet the dawn from eleven thousand feet above the wide pine bottoms of Georgia. It's something to which I can look forward, I guess.