Closure

I met with my boss for 30 minutes yesterday. I confessed a difficulty in coming to closure on projects. I evaluated 831 e-books for purchase, and stopped working with only 57 yet to go. I interviewed three people but delayed scheduling the one remaining interviewee. My work seemed meaningless, but I kept that part to myself.

A new textbook was on the table. My boss's name was on the cover. She told me she was surprised at the amount of editing that an author was required to do.

Then she told me about a new ranking of published academic accountants. She was shocked to discover that she was #11, and she wasn't even born when they started keeping score.

Her day job is leading the business faculty at an elite university. She also teaches MBA students in the global institute.

I count the hours at work until I come home to garden for wildlife. I am called to fill the birdfeeders and refresh the water in the birdbaths. I cannot resist the urge to create a 100 cu ft compost heap. I feel compelled to install a rain garden this spring.


Books and journal articles last forever. My wildlife garden will only last only as long as someone cares for it. A homeowner with weedwacker and mower can end it all in an afternoon. The food and water and shelter, and the birds and butterflies and bees that depend on those, will decline.


That is the heartbreak. In the end, it will all end with me.

And yet he keeps calling. Sometimes I ask him to wait, but he keeps calling.