Taco

I'm having a rough go of it at work of late. I'm currently working on what is both the most frustrating and potentially most rewarding project in my time spent there, but as it stands now, it's leaning heavily towards the former. The details I'll spare, but it's wearing me down to the point that I was even sick for a few days recently.

And just before I skew this blog dangerously towards the stereotypical (stats show nine out of ten blogs are about either cats, high school enemies or bitching-about-work), I'll veer sharply and reveal what I believe to be the true root cause of the problem: Taco the turtle.

Taco the spiny soft-shelled turtle – the cutest, friendliest and most awesomest resident of the interpretive centre where I work – died earlier this winter. Taco lived in an aquarium in the large exhibit hall at the opposite end of the building when I first showed up in 1998 and has been there through thick and thin ever since. Whenever I became consumed with stress, creative block or frustration, I'd go see Taco. His skinny pig-nose and flapping flippers never failed to shake whatever low mood I was in, and within minutes – or some cases, seconds – I'd head back to the desk and be ready to go again.

I guess I was on a roll through most of the winter. I hadn't seen Taco in weeks before I dropped by for a visit near Christmas, to find the tank empty. There's a little painted turtle in it now, but he/she's just not cutting it.