Moving around my desk, a short walk was decidedly the option of choice to address my weakening tenacity to complete the arduous tasks.  I walked beyond my office’s threshold after collecting a light sweater from the closet.  The interior would have cooled enough to warrant the additional warmth it would secure.

The sound of my footsteps on wooden floors reverberated in the empty halls as I made my way through to the far end of the gallery.  Vivaldi’s masterpiece lost auditory impact with each step.

This interlude to completing necessary paperwork, the budget reconciliation and forecast for an upcoming board meeting would at least be productive.  Allowing yet another opportunity for me to re-confirm what I’d already checked on multiple times earlier. 

It doesn’t hurt to be absolutely sure. 

Besides, I loved this feeling.  Having occasion to roam the halls unfettered with any disruptions from employees, colleagues and visitors.  It reminded me of when I had my own gallery. 

Slowing my pace briefly as I passed one of the rooms, I took time to admire one sculptures of particular interest to me in the entire collection.  Named ‘Transition’ by the artist. 

It wouldn’t be classified traditional by the casual observer.  Perhaps because of the baleful coloring, harsh lines and form – it could be accused of lacking aesthetic qualities.  Repulsive even.  Indeed, challenging to the untrained eye. 

However for me this piece was consistent with the philosopher Kant’s position.  That response to beauty exists in the structure of one’s mind.  Paradoxically, art can offer ugliness and beauty in one object.  A fine portrayal of what is unsightly could be stunningly striking.

Then again, I’ve always been more forgiving and accepting of expressed art in general.  I had my preferences but savored varied samplings.  Connecting with its diversity better than I did with people at times.

Continuing on, I reached my intended destination.  From this vantage point I could view at least four rooms connected by the open but framed access points.  Pausing to scrutinize the immediate area, I took pride in its accomplished state. 

Much of this profession, at least for me is laying ultimate claim to accountability.  Being attributed blame or recognition for either disappointment or success respectively.

Like our falling apart, culpability belonging squarely on my shoulders.  Unable to rescue our failing connection or resist the destructive nature of my desperate act.

Thus a proposition, though initially declined, may still be reconsidered.  Especially in light of the maturing level of acceptance of our situation…my situation.  Reasoning for why the settlement offer was made in the first place.

Of course I wouldn’t want to leave because of Kit and our friends.  Most of all, I don’t know if I could live without seeing Tina and not be close to her, geographically that is.

Disconsolate with the resurfacing and now familiar melancholic state, my brisk steps bring me to the different sections of the exhibit.  Most of the pieces have arrived and arranged without incident. 

A few contingency plans enacted but overall, a success thus far.  Rigor, scrupulous planning and careful execution had its merits. 

Proficiencies that resulted in the proposition that may potentially resettle me from LA to New York.