Yesterday was a shitty day.
A really shitty day.
A shitty day that's followed about eight weeks of shitty days.
A bunch of us are in the throes of launching a fairly gigantic amount of new work.
The deadlines are as tight as a fat man's belt.
Approvals like getting water from a stone.
In any event, I was feeling downright l u g u b r i o u s.
And as I was walking to the men's room, past the ping-pong table, an errant ball bounced quickly and wildly by me.
All at once I was 17 again and back in the Mexican League.
I deftly back-handed the speeding ball, without breaking my stride. Out of my peripheral vision I saw one of the ping-pongers coming toward me to fetch the ball. I flipped it to in a perfect gentle parabola.
We made the perfect double-pay.
It was 40 years ago.
When things were so much simpler.