Walking On Eggshells

Now, it's one thing to fight the urge to cram a keyboard down the throat of a client who's expectations are set somewhere in the ionosphere, but it's quite another when they get offended when asked what her PMS Color is. Granted, I try to use the full name, Pantone Matching System, whenever I can, and the client in question was being a tad bit - shall we say, witchy? But, come on! Offended? For 3 letters that aren't so universal, after all. Really?

At least we didn't order a Test & Approval, or, you know, a T&A...

Strange things are afoot here, at the Circle K, my friends. Writing is being done, but not for spec-scripts. Drawings are being made, but not for storyboards. And friendships are being lost, but not by betrayals. Boy Scouts are being hounded Uncle Sam, power struggles are coming to a head, and dark allegiances are being formed.

I'm just ready for this week to be over. Once again, I feel like I've worked 80 hours, and it's only Thursday. Not that I haven't pulled that off before, but this is different. This is an emotional weariness, as well as a physical one. My neck and back haven't stopped aching, and I'm not convinced it's solely because of the change in the weather.

Something's up. I can smell it in the air. I can feel it in my bones. And, I'm not sure what the final outcome is going to be.

It's a dark time for our rebellion, Dear Readers. At least at times like these I can find solace and serenity in the shadow of the moon. Wait. That's no moon...

-Jos

"In certain trying circumstances, urgent circumstances, desperate circumstances, profanity furnishes a relief denied even to prayer." ~Mark Twain