Well, another week... another dollar... another time sheet WAY over my 40 hours.

I work too much.

Oops.

But I kind of like it. Now, I don't like getting home so late I can't run, but I like writing. I especially like writing around 10 p.m. or so when the day is winding down,deadline for the next day's paper has passed and I can bask in the relative quietness of the scanner and copy editors musing over AP rules and such.

Tonight I worked on my story about Overton. Here's the just of it -Last year, four people died in seven months because they lost the battle between Lexus and Locomotive. When you go asking questions around a small town, you discover just how wary they are of outsiders.The city manager bailed on four of our appointments and then refused to return notepads full of messages. I finally got tough with him, and we talked. No pain, fella. It's okay.The police locked their lips too.

Sometimes I don't think I make for a very good reporter. I loooove to tell a story. I loooove to put words on paper.

But...Sometimes, I don't like the hounding part (expect when I do), the pushy part (except when I do), or the difficult research part (except when I do).

I'm just a study in dichotomy aren't I.

Oh well, if I don't understand myself, I can't expect anyone else to.:)