Stress, Stress, Stress, Stress, Stress . . . Stress, Stress, Stress, Stress, Stress . . Stress, wonderful stress, glorious stress . . Stress, Stress, Stress, Stress, Stress . .
Ever had a time when your diary appears to take on a life of its own and all else disappears?
Considering I have taught time-management skills and been a time and motion man (we call them Industrial Engineers these days) I thought that even when there was a load on the table I could balance the diary and get the job/s done. This week has become one of those where the events and the demands, circumstances and situations of others has left me breathless and amazed.
I find myself like Tarzan swinging from rope to rope as I seek to be in the right place, have the right material in my hand and wear the right clothes (this is important - baggies and a Hawaiian shirt are often regarded as out of place at the Crematorium!).
But I wouldn't have it any other way really!
ps. Dear God - any chance of another couple of hours in a day please ;)
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