Had odd dreams last night, one about the times we’re living in and how it affects business, businesses. Will it affect me, impact my being and life in some way. Well, more than it has. I had a meeting outside with a man at a picnic bench, but it seemed like we were either on someone’s driveway or just on the sidewalk in SF, somewhere in the Sunset I think, or Mission. One of the streets I canvassed with the Filed Sales Team when I first started. Finally leaving bed at 7:20-something I brush teeth and just as I’m leaving room about to go downstairs, I look down and see Emma, with a formidable, expansive smile on her face. She lips and slightly whispers “Good morning Dada… downstairs!” Emphatically with her pointing to what’s below her toes. I say good morning, pick her up stamp her cheek with a purposeful smooch, and downstairs-bound.
Once down here she wants to watch Power Rangers, and since it’s a holiday in her world I figure why not. “Can I have some orange juice?” She asks. I say sure, where she follows with “Thanks Dada, you’re the best Dada.” My day, already made. Taking this, all this with her, into the day, into the calls, into the follow-up with contracts and estimates, conversations and everything.
Find myself getting lost in this document, like writing a paragraph in between paragraphs of a past day. Makes me think I need to start a new one. Truly treat each day as its own story rather than have this long-intending cascade of composition, some hilarious string and storm of entries. I don’t know, I’m tired of thinking about it and not having the book done. So…… just keep writing I tell myself as I would 1A students.
Jack downstairs now and sitting on couch with Emma, she tries to summarize what’s happening so Jack is up to speed. Her little voice so soft but meaningful and sharp, petite intellectualism. Taking the few rush-shaped and use paper towels into the other room I try not to disturb them. Their day off. Nearly mid-November, me older, them as well. Feel like a soldier in a circling battle with the clock, with time each occasion I see it. I hear them in there, sniffling and chatting about what’s happing not the screen.
Have to begin day soon. Look at phone to see what emails wait for me like fanged animals hungry, and….. that small contract from the Psychologist woman. $7200 over 36 months. Not exactly exciting me, but I’m sure the director if I express this feeling to him will saying something like “Hey Michael, a contract’s a contract.” Maybe even following with “Congratulations! Cheers”, which he always does forgetting punctuation after the last words, which always has me in grin. He’s a nice man, the director. Often I wish he’d be as hard on me as I am on self. But still, here I am, in a pandemic, and now today with all kids home for Veteran’s Day.. and I have to be survivalist, work however and whenever I can.