Dancing about editing

All morning, there was little doubt in my mind that today was, in fact, a Monday. It had all the earmarks of one, all the dreary little annoyances that go into making it the quintessentially least fun day of the week. For one, it was raining. Then, when I got to my station, they announced a track change — only to announce another change, back to the original track, after we’d all climbed up and back down the stairs that the divide the two. They’ve done this before — they meaning the Long Island Railroad — as recently as this past November. Switching us back and forth, in the cold and the rain of the early morning, and all the while claiming to be running “on time” when in fact running five to ten minutes late.

When I got to Penn Station, I had to wait in line to purchase my monthly ticket for March, since for some strange reason that starts tomorrow. (We’re sure this isn’t a leap year?) There had been some mix-up with my new transit program at work: I get a card with the full amount, only it was just under the full amount, so the machines at the station wouldn’t recognize it as valid. I got this squared away on Friday (after I got home, to my own station where you can only by daily tickets), but they couldn’t increase the amount on my card until next month. So I had to wait on line for a teller, give him twenty-four dollars in cash, and then pay the balance with what was on the card.

I naturally picked the slowest line. But at least next month I can just use the card at the machine at my convenience. (After the twentieth, of course, when the new monthly tickets become available.)

Anyway, after that it was just a normal day at work. I did finally manage to have my job performance review with my boss, and I think it went well. Overall, I quite like my job, and overall I think they’re happy to have me. We discussed the projects I’ve been working on, the ones currently in the mix, and a few new texts that might benefit from developmental work in the near future. With luck, my red pen (and occasionally blue pencil) and I should be pleasantly busy for the foreseeable future.

Though I’m sorry to say, I didn’t follow Heather‘s advice and give my performance review in interpretive dance. An hour’s talk with my boss was, though pleasant, nerve-wracking enough. And trust me, I’ve seen the both of us dance, and it would not have gone over well.