It's really Friday? It's not a dream?

Because I have the Friday dream on Wednesdays or Thursdays, and waking up is not fun.

Not a bad week, just a long one. I decided my new job description is Corporate Ghostbuster - do you have some shitty, vaguely legal-ish, nagging issue that has been sitting on your desk for months? Is it beginning to evolve, grow tentacles, eyes, and teeth? Does it occasionally spew green slime? Or do you have just an idle question, a vague fear, a nagging spectral issue? Who ya gonna call?

As I tell them over and over, if I wanted to BE a lawyer I would have GONE to law school. I actually thought about it and chose not to do it. I was not hired to practice law, and I know enough not to step in that trap. If it's something that needs a real legal opinion I call our lawyer. He is a doll. But usually what I'm asked is common sense - Um, let's think about this, how does this work in the real world? We talk, we figure out the answer. I'm Dr. Phil. Or Lucy Van Pelt - "Legal Advice," 5 cents. It's not really legal advice, but I'm cloaked in a mantle of wisdom, or a flea market tablecloth, or something. They ask my opinion. But how could I ever go back to a law firm and do rote tasks for lawyers 15 years younger than I am after I've been treated like an intelligent, experienced professional? I'm not giving them real legal advice, but damn, I've been around builders and construction long enough to have seen if not "it all," certainly a hell of a lot. I know the business and the players and many, but not all, of the pitfalls, and that's what I really draw on. The legal stuff is just a thin glaze on the top, and if there's any risk involved I pick up the phone and call the lawyer.

I'm not sure it's where I want to be, or how it's all going to shake out. There are so many layers to this situation right now, and few are blogworthy. I'm just annoyed that I'm nearly 48 and I'm still wondering what I'll be doing next year. This was so not in my life plan. Nothing in my life was planned, it just evolved. Or devolved - I can't tell yet.

But you know, though I may bitch, I do realize that there are way worse options. I could be deeply entrenched in a rut of a life, just passing time until Old Age. Instead, I'm in this weird Second Adolescence. Bitch about it though I may, it is interesting in a strange, tiring way.

Knitting? Hah. I knit a few rows on the Seychelles shawl in the morning. I crochet a few rows (maybe two, because that sucker is getting large) on the All Season Shawl at night. Flat. I like flat. And repetitive. I like repetitive.

After my blowout at Chez Casuelle, I shall buy no yarn for quite a while. I won't say forever, but damn, I have enough things I really want to make sitting right here with me, the siren song of new yarn is silent for a change.