It’s official. It’s all over between me and ‘(s)he who must be obeyed.’ (Thanks Rumpole!) No more slogging into big rectangular-prism shaped buildings, those blocky uglinesses bedecked with corporate logos, working on empty things, pleasing no one important, humming old Beatles tunes and composing haiku as I toil, vain efforts to keep my mind from turning into mush. Lord knows I tried, but the relationship was doomed from the get-go. I was just so blind. Communication broke down over the years and less and less often could I lay softly on my nightbed dreaming of tomorrow’s triumphs, likely instead to find myself stewing about today’s lunacy. Industrial relations counseling didn’t help.
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