Our jobs require constant, up-each-other's-ass communication, but when there is an argument or a fight (just like in relationships), there is usually a long, awkward, service-fucking silence. Last night was one of those nights, yet it didn't fuck up service too much.
Granted, it was my fault, which is why I'm writing this—as a means of both processing and, I guess, public confession. Miscommunication blows. That's the moral of the story. When you're slammed and focused, all it takes a little miscommunication to crash the whole fucking house of cards you've built in your head. Tonight, please, be gentle on us all. Self, let go, be excellent to each other.