While riding my bike home from work this evening, I decided that working in a pottery shop is like learning to drive on the freeway. At first, you pray for traffic. 60 mph is as unfathomable as the psychic octopus in Germany who predicted the winner of the World Cup. You're content with the slowness of things--after all, isn't the stress always less when there's nothing to stress about? After a while, though, you grow restless. The car in front of you isn't moving fast enough. It has been a whole hour since your last customer and you're getting tired of trying to read Angle of Repose while CBC radio is playing a French version of Frankie Valli's "Oh What a Night." You want to flip the page, turn the radio dial, introduce the gas pedal to the floor of your car. I know, I know. I'm an ace with analogies. It's true though. Slowness is nice--even preferable--for a while, but when it becomes 3pm and you feel like you've been sitting in the same chair for weeks on end, a customer or two would not be an unwelcome sight.
That is all.
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