The weather here this morning was pretty grim -- raining hard, totally overcast and gray. The Guv was supposed to fly from Trenton to Boston at 7 for a day trip. I didn't have a chance to call him first thing as I was rushing to get Petunia out the door for her half-assed half-day of school and to hand Dash off to Maria so that I could go and get a haircut. When I finally rang the Guv around 10, he was sitting on the Cross Bronx.
Huh?
I have tried hard, for seventeen years, five months, three weeks and three days to figure out how this man thinks. And yet, I never fail to fail on that front. Because I do not understand, and I never will, what would possess someone to drive over five hours each way in one day to make some meetings that, in my humble opinion, no one would expect you to have been able to arrive at considering the weather.
I can hear the Guv's many possible responses. "Because that's how I earn my fat paycheck." "Because that's why I'm among the best in my field -- I get there, first." Or perhaps: "Because if I don't do it today, that'll give me twice as much to do tomorrow."
What worries me is where his breaking point might be. He ran himself so hard earlier this year that he became so sick he couldn't stand up. His schedule over this week and next is at breakneck speed. Most days, I believe that this is what keeps him going: he loves his job, the fast pace, the challenges, the rewards. But some days, I just want my family all under one roof, taking in the storm and sharing some hot chocolate around the table... instead of tucking the kids in alone, knowing he's somewhere on I-84 in Connecticut driving way too fast to make it home to get some sleep before another manic day begins.
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