Descent

"Would it matter?" I asked with one eyebrow raised. His mouth dropped open at my response and I merely blinked before walking away.

It wasn't even a big deal. I'd reserved an room for a meeting and arrived to set up the projector when I found a colleague entering before me. And he was not invited to my meeting.

"We're both in here," he noted when he saw me. "She must not have seen your note," he explained, faltering when he realized the calendar isn't at all confusing. "But we do need the space. Is this going to cause a problem for you?"

I found another space and conducted my stressful meeting where we contracted for a thing and the thing didn't work so they remade the thing and we let customers see the thing only to realize that the thing didn't work in a different way. So now we're upset and the makers of the thing are upset so we sat and snapped at each other for about an hour. ("Well, my copy of the document doesn't say that.")

"Yeah," I offered in response to another colleague's thanks, already walking away after leaving data on his desk.

"No. That will not work," I insisted when someone asked me to cover part of the documentation for a project. "You'll have to find a way to deliver it!" I barely stopped myself from stomping my foot when she tried again.

I stopped to throw a pile of stuff in the mail room, squinting to see if there was anything in my box. I wandered over to pick up a padded envelope, wondering who was going to bother me now, and paused when I realized it was a journal. I waited until I was home to open it, dropping medicine in Chienne's eye and accepting happy greetings. I showed her the cover and told her I'd created that picture and those letters spelled my name. She seemed pleased.

I got back to work, trying to organize and articulate and plan. I'm tired. When asked how it's going, I grow weary of saying 'I love it! But it's so much work.' And worse still, it's Monday and I'm snapping at people I rather like.

I've already sent apologetic email.