Today was one of those Mondays when I feel more tired walking through the front door than when I left last Friday at 5 p.m. How does this happen? Was it Obama's speech at the vigil in Newtown? The 49ers-Patriots game on Sunday Night Football? My Lake Union Loop run earlier that Sunday? Whatever it was I could tell my coworkers felt the same -- stunned to be back in front of one's computer monitor with a new week about to begin.
The thought that clouds my mind is, "Somewhere I've made a mistake. I shouldn't be hear. I've got to find a way out." And then my mind answers itself, "Oh, well, now, come on. Just hang in there and deal with it. You can't get out now."
The whole day is like bone rubbing on bone. Outside a cold wind announces winter is on its way. I listen to PJ Harvey's "White Chalk" at lunch recalling that it was my preferred album for sleeping on the #101 bus when I worked in Renton. I force myself through the day. I try to get as much done as possible. Because when in doubt, when you feel as if you are about to be suffocated by your job, there is always the work itself; that's where the only hope for solace is.