How To Disappear Completely

"It Must Be Thursday. I Never Could Get the Hang of Thursdays."

These 9.5 hour days are getting to be insane. I thought that tomorrow was going to be my last day, but then the receptionist currently on vacation called. Auto accident. Everyone safe, but it looks like they need me another week. We're talking another 45 hours of work here.

God is good in sending me the money, but the poor people at the office are probably ready to get back to normal. These past two weeks have brought one major catastrophe after another. The reason I was in the office in the first place is that the main receptionist broke her ankle and can't room patients (and the other receptionist went on vacation). We still have fans drying the floor out from the water explosion. We've had a record number of last-minute cancellations and no shows. And now this.

In the afternoon both the other receptionist and I were tired of the music on the radio. Lame station after lame station came up on the dial. "Hey," I suggested. "I have some music in the car. Most of it is weird electronic stuff that no one will like, but I do have some fun stuff." "Go for it," she said. So I trekked out and retrieved my Belle and Sebastian.

After a couple of songs, the receptionist voiced her hearty approval. I glowed. Another convert to the world of indie-pop. If only I could share Jesus as effectively as I share my music. It's not as if the techniques are very different: start by asking questions about what they already like. Once common ground is established, proceed to suggest indie artists who have a similar sound. Then suggest some others that stretch their taste a bit. Anyway, tomorrow I am loading up some choice favorites and "educating" the entire office. One of the PTs is from "South Afriker" and reading a book on twentieth century music. So I am finding that working in an PT office isn't as far removed from my field as I first imagined.

Bonus points to whoever gets the title quote reference...