Tuesday, May 07, 2002

Work at the treehouse is busy, busy. Even though this job is everyone's primary source of income *and* we've all put in some of our own money to make this thing run, something is different from our eyewire days. I (for one) am more relaxed about the outcome.

For example, I set aside my nose-to-the-grindstone, gonna-get-fired-any-moment paranoia last week long enough to take care of some personal business and as a result, wasn't in the office for the promised 32 hours. Normally, this would cause waves of forboding, expecting at any minute to see any one of my colleagues walk up to me and say "Sean, we see you're not pulling your weight. Get the hell out of here." Just as some of these feeling would start to well up in me, a little voice would remind me of the many, many hours of volunteer time I had put in over the past few months and most certainly will be putting in over the next month or two. Suddenly, the guilt just rolled off me like rainwater from a freshly waxed car.

Thank goodness for rational thought.

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