Blame it on Stress

My poor blog has been sadly neglected lately, but I have a good excuse – or do I? I’ve been stressed out. Not just cranky, but questioning my life choices in a big way. I suppose when it comes to life choices, they are always big. But anyway…

I was working on a very stressful project for a stress-inducing client. Half way into the project, I found myself sitting on one of those giant planter boxes that have sprouted all over the city to prevent people driving vehicles into buildings. It was early morning and I was freezing my butt off waiting for the crew to show up so that we could load in for a shoot. I was about a half hour early – I’m always early – so I just sat there, watching business people rush by in their skirts and suits and expensive coats. Women passed by, their shoes making polck-plock sounds on the sidewalk, which vibrated with each subway passing by beneath our feet. People getting out of cabs, delivery trucks maneuvering into loading docks. People with places to go and things to do.

In the midst of the early morning activity, a street sweeper slowly made his way down the sidewalk. He was listening to his iPod and he swept the curb. He wore brown Carhart winter overalls and seemed pretty content with life. At that moment I wanted to be him, to be a street sweeper. It seemed like the ideal job. No stress. Lots of time to think. Yes, for a moment (or two, or threee), I wanted to be him.