Friday, April 15, 2016
Face Pushed Up Against the Envelope
Yes, friends, the limit has been reached.
My face is pressed against the edges of what I can do, like it would be against a plate-glass door with a cop bearing down on me, putting on handcuffs.
That's what it feels like too, I might add.
This envelope is my work life.
I can't do it anymore. I have cracked, broken, gone off the deep end, surrendered. I am one step from the raving homeless guy snorting sugar in front of the convenience store.
So, if you try to contact me, email me, or find me in my office, I won't be there. I have fallen through the crack, moved on, switched orbits, gone bonkers.
Sorry for any inconvenience.