Wednesday, December 15, 2004

Under My Skin

What is it about that one guy at the office that just gets under my skin? Part of it is he puts off a nervous frazzled energy that generates that same response within me. I don't do nervous. I don't do frazzled. So when the carrier gets around to passing it along, I react. Badly.

Then I let every little thing get under my skin. Every. Little. Thing. Every dot of red ink. Every corrected document that comes back cut apart and taped together in new and irritating ways. And why can we never get it right the first time? Or even the second? Why do we have endless time for changes and corrections, but never enough time to do it right the first time?

I have gotten to where I don't give him the completed work until the last minute because it gives him less time to change his mind. I'm heading in right now to steal all his red pens. Hah!

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