The Ink-Pot and the Palette

...the one that unwinds this coil of tension between my shoulder blades?

Good god, I've discovered a new circle of hell. It exists on the 14th floor of the World's Tallest Basement. It is overseen by Norm, whose instruments of torture include Rev-Proc 2010-26 and data transfer files for the Internal Revenue Service that have to be analyzed--by a highly-paid human being (such as myself, for instance)--in detail, across rows 175 columns wide.

I was ready to tear my hair out--I mean, I was literally clutching at it. We're too slammed to take time to develop a more efficient way of getting done what needs to be done, and I suspect that Norm really likes to work this way. I don't mind detail work, and I don't mind a little drudgery, but I hate the kind of gross, slogging inefficiency baked into the system by a workaholic who needs to feel important.

My temper got the better of me around 6:00 this evening after losing my place for the fifth time in the Rev Proc 2010-26, and I said, "God! There has to be a better way of doing this!"

Norm: "I haven't found one."

Me: "Yeah, well, that doesn't mean one doesn't exist."

I'm not the world's most courteous person, but really, I try to be more contained than that. I'd just had enough. Since October 17 when I started eating 2000 calories a day, I have not been tempted to eat 3000--or 4000--until today. This evening I want to eat the world. The whole wide world, which I understand has a creamy truffle filling.

I'm giving serious consideration to a 140-calorie double shot of Laphroaig as a moderate alternative.

Every summer here, there's a day where you can suddenly feel fall coming--the light and shadow ratio is just-so and the air has a cool edge to it.

Usually that day is a little later in the season, but this year it was today, and it is splendid out. So I thought, hey, perfect for a relaxing lunchtime bike ride. I decided to go to the closest Trader Joe's and stock up on chocolate healthy gourmet treats.

Holy shit, that was stressful! I don't know whether I just chose the wrong route, or if every single car downtown was from out of town, or what, but I had four separate brushes with vehicles scooting past me in the same lane, with inches to spare (not the legally required three feet--and my shouting, "Dude! Three feet!" had little impact, but at least there was no other impact, which is good).

Then I saw a stupid-ass bicyclist try for death by SUV right in front of me, and thank the FSM the driver wasn't on the phone and was quick on the brakes or it would have been ugly.

Then I got stuck in traffic. I sat through four red lights at one intersection, exhaust pipes all around me.

Mind you, it was still way better than riding a bus to Trader Joe's, and I do now have several weeks' supply of chocolate, but it gave me a keen appreciation for the views of people who live in less bike-friendly places than Portland. I would not want to take that particular ride every day, or even ever again, and if that were my only route option I wouldn't be riding a bike at all.