March 8th, 2006



Drank 1 cup of coffee, opened 72 emails, responded to 43, deleted 22. Took 43 phone calls, made 19, deleted 16 sales calls from voice mail. Created 9 calendar entries, changed 4, and attended 4 conference calls, one of which was 2-hours long. Spoke with 1 person 23 times, 2 people 18, and 14 once. Visited facilities 6 times, ordered 2 DVD players for the conference rooms, went to the restroom 7 times. Coordinated 2 away missions, closed my office door 8 times, ate 2 sandwiches and 17 baby carrots washing it down with 2.2 litres of water. Scheduled 3 meetings, attended 1. Got called onto the carpet of the CEO of a company 90,000 strong. Reported that meeting to the CIO. Rec'd 19 cell phone calls, 8 text messages, and replied to 4. Had 6 scooby-snacks at my desk, put in 18 tickets, closed 4, wrote 3 reports. Logged into 1 unix box making 3 scp transactions and rebooted my windows computer once. Ran 1 defrag and 2 spyware programs, listened to 80 mp3's and 10 voice mails. Made 96 decisions, had 28 people stop by my office, 18 interruptions, and found the phone in my hand 6 times without having any idea who I was going to call...

Another suburban family morning
Grandmother screaming at the wall

We have to shout above the din of our Rice Crispies
We can't hear anything at all
Mother chants her litany of boredom and frustration
But we know all her suicides are fake,

Daddy only stares into the distance
There's only so much more that he can take
Many miles away something crawls from the slime at the
Bottom of a dark Scottish lake

Another industrial ugly morning
The factory belches filth into the sky
He walks unhindered through the picket lines today,
He doesn't think to wonder why
The secretaries pout and preen like cheap tarts in a red light street,
But all he ever thinks to do is watch,
And every single meeting with his so-called superior
Is a humiliating kick in the crotch
Many miles away something crawls to the surface of a dark Scottish lake

Another working day has ended
Only the rush hour hell to face
Packed like lemmings into shiny metal boxes
Contestants in a suicidal race
Daddy grips the wheel and stares alone into the distance
He knows that something somewhere has to break
He sees the family home now looming in the headlights
The pain upstairs that makes his eyeballs ache
Many miles away there's a shadow on the door of a cottage on the
Shore of a dark Scottish lake

Many miles away...
Many miles away...