Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day
To the last syllable of recorded time,
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.

— Macbeth (Act 5, Scene 5)

My week, my tale, succinctly summed up by Shakespeare.

In dealing with the everyday difficulties of dealing with “other people” I, always with a lofty attitude, have tried to view these difficulties as fodder for developing characters for our projects. But here is the rub. I have far more developing characters than I need and I cannot kill them off nearly fast enough to suit me.

Thank you, Domaine Carneros. Life may be but a walking shadow, but this Estate Pinot Noir is lighting the candle in my life. And they deliver it right to my front door.

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