Lake Lewisia #543

“And do you know what has to be fixed if it’s,” Casey carefully quoted back what eir little sister had said, “migraine crackling?” Shannon, whose small hands and tousled head were still both crammed down into the engine hatch of the bus and had been for the better part of an hour since it stalled out, called back to her sibling like one from down a well, “No, but maybe if I tell someone, they’ll understand.” Casey nodded, accustomed to this answer whenever Shannon sensed something no one else perceived about a machine, and went back to looking for a cell signal while they all waited for rescue or understanding, whichever came first.

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LL#543

Today's Keyboard Smash

In the scheme of a ten-hour shift, the one hour I spent beating my head against a metaphorical wall should not define the day.

The day was otherwise very productive and reasonably pleasant. (Though I will point out, dear coworker, that you could maybe shut the fuck up about your new job offer while I am trying to count parts by hand. Just. You've been talking all day. Shut up. For. A minute.) I learned some new things in the course of being loaned to another department. I got to quietly and competently grind through tasks.

But oh, that one hour. The problem job has, despite two weeks of modifications and improvements, begun to exhibit the exact same flaw that got it sent away for fixing in the first place. So it has that special Groundhog Day flavor of doing something different and still experiencing the same bullshit.

It shouldn't outweigh the rest. It shouldn't matter. And yet. It leaves a bitter taste that drives everything else from the mind.

Tomorrow, I get to try again. We'll see if that's a blessing or a curse.