Last night our friend Rose visited. It was awesome, and not just because I don't get out anymore and few brave souls venture to the sunny shores of Weehawken. Rose works in London now as an editor and writer. She's brilliant, fun and so well-balanced. Most people are either performer types (yappy drama queens) or audience types (wise listeners) and I love both. But Rose is rare in that she can give as well as she takes. I should've taken some video of her. Her fault for being too interesting. Oh, and she'd just come from interviewing Elizabeth Gilbert. If that means something to you, awesome, if not, move on.
Wait, wasn't this post about something not nice? Oh yeah.
Today = sucky to the nth degree. I can't start complaining because I fear I would not be able to stop. OK, see? I just deleted a whole lot of my starting to kvetch.
No, forget it -- I rarely share. And the weight of never sharing is dragging me down. I am going to tell you that I had so much work today, I thought I was going to vomit. It wasn't hard work. And I like what I do. But it was fiddly, riddled wth technical snags and there was simply too much. My husband had written me a sweet email about how quiet I'd been today and I wrote him a stunned, no caps response that told him I had had so much work I felt ill. He kindly called me and told me to breathe, relax, etc. He's a good one, he is.
Then [REDACTED] called me from [REDACTED HOSPITAL] to chat about [REDACTED MEDICAL CONDITION BECAUSE IT'S A SECRET -- ONE THAT IS SURELY GOING TO KILL ME AS THIS FOUR-YEAR SECRET HAS ALREADY TURNED MY BRAIN TO CHEESE] but I was so busy I totally rushed the call and blew them off. So then the work wasn't finishing and I need to pick up my baby from daycare (it's a great place but will I ever be OK with the word?) and then it occurs to me that I need to go to the bathroom, but I decide, no -- I've no time to go. When I realized that I'm not helping humanity, I'm not helping [REDACTED], I'm not near most of my friends or family and I've had a lot of "no time to go to the bathroom" days, I found myself on a rare hysterical crying jag asking myself a mantra of, "Why? What am I doing? What am I doing?" Lotsa fun.
What did I do? Well, unlike in "EAT, PRAY, LOVE" the almighty didn't speak to me. And unlike her, my husband is the only thing I know I don't want to quit. So I went back to work. And I just did what I could. And I picked up the babe a hair late, and I was OK.
OK as in I am probably more fragile as I'm still sick with a massive cold that must have been sent my Ming the Merciless. Actually, I know who I got the cold from -- the babe, again. What is he trying to do? Kill off the host? Seriously, he can't work my debit card yet. What is he thinking?
And so here is the snotty scamp today during our time before bath and bed. It was a balm for my soul. As I currently can't breathe through my nose, his teasing me with the tissues was rather cruel, no?
