I’m feeling accomplished. I didn’t even do that much today! but what happened was significant out of proportion to the effort required. Which is only fair for once! Generally my effort feels far too out of proportion to the outcome.
First thing’s first: I had supervision with Sue. Of course she was very affirming, positive, glowingly positively reinforcing my strengths and marvellousness. That’s how she is.
We talked about my sense of gratitude towards my employer, “I don’t think I would be where I am if it weren’t for them,” and how it motivates me to do more than is reasonable; to agree to more than should be expected; to uncomplainingly accept conditions that are untenable. We talked then of my sense of greater meaning, value and efficacy when doing private work. These two topics, naturally, fed eventually into the idea of Brenton and I beginning our own business. Seeing clients, but also providing consultation and training. Flexibility, cost effectiveness, all that jazz. I can’t help but feel it is something that will absolutely happen, it being merely a matter of time.
What about Merely as a surname? I kind of like it better than the uncompromising, hesitantly-ended “Mere.” Merely. I actually really do like that. It may be a viable alternative to the current online persona.
Merely sat at her hectically cluttered desk in her underwear, spiderfeet of sweatdrops creeping down the staircase of her spinal bumps. “Tomorrow a supercell is due,” she typed. She paused for a second to privately acknowledge that the only reason such a tidbit was remarkable was that she very much adored the term “supercell,” despite the fact that, she was sure, it was a term of far superior technical definition than she had awareness of.
Her partner was sitting on the rug in his own underwear, only just within her peripheral awareness, gazing intently into the screen of his phone, until suddenly she realised he was speaking. She looked over as he patted their fluffpot of a kittencat, Gupster. “Do you think her eyes are a bit milky?” he asked.
“Idownknow,” she mumbled incoherently, turning immediately back to her pointless typings. “Guppy is attacking the wrapping paper,” he pointed out a few moments later, clearly attempting, yet again, to obtain her far too elusive attention.
Once she had completed exploiting this event for the purposes of her daily writing word-count and, suddenly realising she had run out of material, she looked over to see what he was up to now. She noticed that at some point during the last sentence or two he had moved into the lounge room armchair, and was again focused upon his phone.
“Hey!” She said indignantly.
He jerked his eyeballs toward her, surprised out of his technologically stimulated reverie. “What?!”
At this stage she was already laughing, realising that the fairly preposterous reason for her offence was that: “You stopped subtly demanding my negligent attention!”