See what I mean? Just who the hell is this kid?

The problem with make-work jobs is that they are, inevitably, designed to make you do things you really don’t want to do. For example, I have been putting off designing my photo albums for the best part of a decade. Part of the reason is the sheer volume of photos I have accumulated. Ottawacker Jr. has more photos of him than the Queen (more photos of him than the Queen had of herself, I mean, not he has more photos of him than he does of the Queen – although he does, but it rather lessens the comparison); many of these I took, but many of them came from his godmother, who was also his daycare provider for several years. Each day has approximately 200 photos on average, so while they are all wonderful and I am very grateful for them, whittling them down to a couple of pages in the album requires a significant amount of time. Mrs. Ottawacker isn’t really a great help with this. “Just choose one picture you like and delete the rest,” she opines.
 
My answer is, of course, the following: How do you expect me to choose one photo and leave it at that? The vast majority of photos are good, choosing just one is almost impossible. In addition, it doesn’t really save any time: to choose the best photo, I do, from necessity, need to go through all the photos. Otherwise, how can I be sure the photo I have chosen is the best one? And what happens when there are a number of photos I want to use? I mean really. Honestly, sometimes I wonder whether she has a soul. What I have to do for each album is do a first sweep through and choose 20-30, then see if I can reduce the number from there. Then choose the photo size, the layout of the pages, etc. etc. If I can get three days done in a single day, I am doing well. The results are, though, well worth it. Even looking back at photos of the boy from 10 years ago are worth it. I hardly recognise him, if truth be told. How can that be? I have been with him, with the odd exception for work, trips, etc. been with him every day of his life. How can I forget how he looked aged 2? Quite easily, apparently. The worst is the video clips I took (of which there are far too few). His voice is the voice of a stranger. Maybe someone swapped him with another child one night – and I am only now realising? Sounds like a script from Dr. Who.
 
Anyway, much of my day was taken up with photos and musings of this sort. Tomorrow is Canada Post strike day. The workers were presented with a new offer, which they quite justifiably said they wanted to study. They offered Canada Post a two-week moratorium on their strike position while they did this. Canada Post said “no, take it or leave it”. This really isn’t a good look for the organisation. They’ve had upwards of six months to present a new proposal and to do it the day before the strike smacks of woeful ineptitude. Canada Post – the whole postal delivery system, in fact – needs to be renationalised. Screw Amazon carriers – make them use Canada’s postal system.
 
Other than that, a nice evening was had by all.