Saturday, April 1

Failure

I don't consider myself a failure. And perhaps none of my acquaintences (personal or business) would use such an adjective either. However, today, I feel like one. Not in the grand scheme of things. Not in the mindset of, O! Methinks my life a suicide should be. Rather, I'm behind on my paperwork. WHAT? you query in a louder-than-normal voice. True, it's true friends. I have chosen to lie on the beach rather than do the advance work my tour requires. And now, I am responsible for housing myself and seven others in Chicago on Monday night and I don't have a clue in which hotel we're being put up by our presenter. Damn. Of course, no one is in his office over the weekend, meaning I will phone early Monday morning in the hope of making contact. If not, perhaps one of those seven people will end their friendship with me. Or worse.

Perhaps I should really have a knock-out weekend then if worse is to happen on Monday. Yikes.

2 comments:

J.J. said...

You'll always have a reserved room in the hotel of my heart.

Beedow said...

ah, mr gittes. you're too kind, sir.