at least one exit

One need not have a belief in literal hells when one has the day I had yesterday. My telephone was abuzz from the time I arrived until the time I left, with each call comprising a new emergency, a new change of plan, an old dilemma, an old debate, an old-and-new situation, and a world of pressure--both given and received. My emotions ran the spectrum--calm, anger, frustration, amusement, tears, satire, and quiet calculation. Finally, I stumbled out of my office, just in time to barely miss my Los Angeles plane. This entitled me to make a switch to the beautiful Ontario airport, a mere hour and fifteen minutes away, to drive the Inland Empire, and to arrive at my hotel at 2:45 a.m. Now that I have slept until 5:45 a.m. and drafted two more documents I had no time to do yesterday, I can see the first hints of light in the clouds. But is that light, or is that more fire? How long has it been since I've had an unfettered weekend with no work?

good humor zone, also known as REM

On three hours' sleep one simply doesn't have the energy to feel badly.
I am amazed at how much I got done yesterday, but how very much I have to do. Last night I read once again Ms. Read's "Village School", the first in a series of novels about a provincial English village school teacher in a two room 40 student school. I suspect, somehow, the retreat into literature is a more effective retreat than actually being a rural school teacher, so perhaps the universe is fair after all.

But now I'm back to work the phones!