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January 10th, 2019

I'm doing well.

As my work shift today wound down, I had a moment to myself on the airport sidewalk, outside the valet parking booth where we're based, and I thought this to myself: I did my job well.

It's nice I can think that.

It's nice I know to think that.

This week was hectic — including my double shift Sunday and a Tuesday that was probably the most complicated day I've had on this job — and at the end of it, on this Sunday-to-Thursday work week that just ended, I could tell I'd done it well.

I've had jobs where it was hard to feel I was doing well. (Having a near-impossible-to-please boss at one place you may remember made it hard to feel I'd been doing well there, even though I was; had I been a freakin' mind reader I'd've done even better, ahem...) And I can dwell on the times I've done my jobs badly. I know I can be good at dwelling. I can worry: Did I make other people's jobs harder? Because I've done that. But today, this week, I got a lot done, sometimes under far-from-ideal circumstances, and I helped.

I'm doing well.

Good.