I do it to myself, always have. You'd think I'd have grown up by now. The interior doesn't match the exterior, I'm afraid.
I received a call Thursday. People I'd worked with earlier in this decade. I'd passed on a project they offered me, knowing I'd not have the time to devote to it. I can hear the echo of my father's comment more than a decade before - "That's unlike Kevin. Maybe he's grown up finally."
Not so much. The project was in its final days - nay hours. Delivery on Monday. Yet, a major area, the area on which I would have worked was far from complete. Would I take a look at what had been done?
But of course. Designs were shipped to me. I looked. Several concerns sprang to mind. There is a tale told of an Irishman asked for directions to a particular place. The response? "Well, I wouldn't start from here."
So I offered my Friday to help. Idiot. Designs take time. Redesigns take even longer. To say nothing of the getting to know the elements you are supposed to be knitting together.
And the smart-aleck remark about a bet on who would produce the better design did little to help frayed nerves. (I once lobbied to have "Diva" as my title on my business card.)
Email responses to questions brought the day to a close sometime after midnight or so.
I should know better. If nothing else, I'm too old for such nonsense. But the allure of knight-in-shining-armor...
Idiot - as mentioned above.
I suppose we all have a need for others to like us. It's been a driver for me all my life - for good and ill.
Saturday passed quietly. Largely because I chose to simply let it pass.
Today, Sunday, listening to 14th and 15th century masses is a good way to gently open the day. Add in American late-18th and 19th century congregational hymns (shape note music - heard in the movie "Cold Mountain") and you have my own brand of stress-reducer.