Every weekday for the last 16 months, like clockwork, I've watched this man walk his two little dogs right past my office window each afternoon. That's about 340 times that I've watched him do this. He was a tall, dapper man, maybe in his mid 50's? His dogs were little - one fluffy, one not so. Both clearly in control of all of their journeys. During the warm months he was always dressed in crisp, white shirts and printed ties. In the winter months, I couldn't tell for sure, but I suspected that there was always still a crisp white shirt and printed tie hidden under his gray wool coat.
For 340 days I watched him, wondering who he was. Did he live in the neighborhood? If so, why was he so dressed up just to walk his dogs? But I always had a grant due, or a crisis to put out. Never a spare moment. And then one day, day 341, I pushed my grants and my crises to the side, and I got up from my desk. And I walked out the front door. And I introduced myself to Mr. Braxton Crenshaw, who runs a small private law firm just a few houses down my street, with his brother, Jesse, a long-time Kentucky state representative. And I met his dogs, who really were in control. And just like that the stranger man who always walked his dogs like clockwork past my office window, became my neighbor. And my grants and crises were still waiting patiently for me when I returned.
Photo credit: minimaldesks.com
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