I was planning on writing a serious post tonight, but I haven't the gray cells left to do so. I put in about 75 hours this week at the office. My timesheet says 72.5, but I didn't count every hour. And the end is not yet. I spent a good chunk of my time there today finding out that what I did yesterday was only partly correct, and finding the way to make it fully correct. And writing the engineering report to demonstrate that it was correct. This is fixing a problem that occurred in one of our projects in 2002. This week I spent 20 hours on that, and the end is not yet. That's 20 hours I didn't get to spend finishing my Bentonville floodplain project or making a sizable dent in the work to do on my first of two Rogers floodplain projects.
I got home tonight about 9 PM, after eating supper with my mother-in-law. I read, or rather re-read, the C.S. Lewis essay "Christianity and Literature". I posted before on a quote from this essay. I suppose it's never a good thing to try to read C.S. Lewis when you're brain dead. I finished the seven page essay (smallish font), but got little out of it. I shall have to read it again. Maybe several times for what he's trying to say to sink in and properly edify.
I'm really tired. Years ago I posted about Emerson's statement "There is time enough for all that I must do." I'm starting to think Emerson was wrong. Until I can get over this hump at work, I know he's wrong. Today I barely made any progress getting over the hump. And I drove home thinking of all those "piles of work not done," and I remembered two or three e-mails I planned on sending today, but didn't for concentrating on that 2002 project. I guess I'll have to get started a little early on Monday, for the contractor needs one of those e-mails first thing Monday morning.
So what shall I quote to end this post? "The end is not yet," or "There is time enough for all that I must do"? I suppose both could be true. Oh, wait, I'm supposed to teach adult Life Group tomorrow and I haven't begun to prepare. Oh, and the announcement is going to be in the church bulliten tomorrow, about people contacting me if they are interested in a church writing group. Sigh.
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And indeed there will be time
For the yellow smoke that slides along the street,
Rubbing its back upon the window-panes;
There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;
There will be time to murder and create,
And time for all the works and days of hands
That lift and drop a question on your plate;
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
Before the taking of a toast and tea.
Thanks, Gary.
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