It Tolls for Thee

I kept my swimming streak alive, barely. I snuck in an 1800-yard unfocused effort between a deluge of phone calls and retrieval of The Lad from school. I had a mere half-hour to swim. I would have had 10 minutes more if I hadn't mindlessly first driven to school instead of the pool as I had intended. That's what happens—or worse!—when you talk on the phone while driving. I almost never talk on the phone while driving but today, well, everything was screwy.

It started first thing in the morning when I got a call from a colleague at the home office letting me know that another colleague of ours had been let go in a second round of layoffs. Bummer! He's a good guy, hard worker, what is he going to do, what are we going to do? Then I noticed that during that first conversation, my boss, who's on vacation all week, had called. Hmm, that's weird. So I called him back and after about 10 seconds of him not really saying much it was pretty obvious: It was my turn. Never send to ask for whom the bell tolls, it tolls for thee. And all that. And suddenly I have a lot more time for Ironman Coeur d'Alene training. That's one way of looking at it, right?

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