think like an ant

Just because I went backwards in every way yesterday doesn’t mean anything about today!

So far, it isn’t windy, so far, the cat is sleeping next to me.  Admittedly eight new action items came in between 6 am and 7:30, but that doesn’t mean I won’t get eight things done before 9. I have to think like an ant; it’s really what I do. I just put my head down and work while the sun shines. I still hold tight to the fantasy that there will come a day in the near future when for whatever brief moment, I am “caught up.”

Today is Jean’s last day in Tucson before she heads off to Florida for Segway-riding, alligator rafting, and sword swallowing, and we’ve got a movie and a trip to Electric Larryland planned, but aside from that, I’ll be in the dining room, answering email, tracking packages, answering email, sending things out, answering email. I have developed a new, keen appreciation for people who communicate succinctly and have a new plan to become one of those people.

Last night, all of the blossoms blew off of the huge palo verde tree (before they even opened, sadly) and this morning the pool was filled with assorted leaves, sticks, dust and sludge, but I’ve got most of it out now. The wind was an unfortunate allegory; it illustrated the somewhat helpless sense that I have regarding this moment in my work-life.

I should have bought this at the thrift shop.


8 thoughts on “think like an ant

  1. You can always go back to that store and get it! I couldn’t have left that behind, and if I did, I’d have gone right back. So many stories in that illustration…

  2. Who knows it could be some long lost original. Certainly a though provoking piece. Whose hands are those..are they the hands of someone who tried or would try to drown her… someone she’d love to help, but she knows she can’t swim and would also go down…The look on her face show pain, hurt and fear.

  3. Perhaps she’s waiting for him to go down. Her mouth is relaxed, one eyebrow is raised in interest.

  4. Hmmmm, never notice the raised eyebrow. Now that I look at it again, the face doesnt show fear, hurt or pain, perhaps just concern, that those wretched hands might reach her.

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