1 of An Infinitesimal Amount:

The morning was good. I sat down and began my labor. I enjoyed and dreamed about what the future would bring. I thought about how men in my family are meant to be hard workers. I was reminded of how my grandpa Clay owned his own barbershop . . . I see a slight trend.

It makes me wonder what my dad was created to do . . . he likes to roof, but he spent a heinous amount of years being a miserable computer programmer.

After lunch was a slump. My mind was wracked with thoughts about money and wages. I found fear and anxiety peering over my shoulder and frustration pricking at my nerves. So was the pink primer . . . fortunately the paint is red. I should have batted them all away, but the thought never crossed my mind.

All the while I know that I should be thankful and joyous. God is the one who set this up and continually pulls things together. He told me to get the truck. He showed me when would be best to quit my job. Faithfully I have. How easily I forget.

Tomorrow we can tweak what didn't go right today. And the next day tweak some more. Righteousness will come, excellence will follow.

And Sanchez will be kept away from my glasses! I don't need another mangled mass of frame.

Cheers and Luv,
Clay