disorientation

Have you ever had one of those mornings when your eyes just pop open an hour and 45 minutes after you were supposed to have woken up? And then you spend the next 5 minutes wondering, "can this be right?" "how did this happen? " "it is a weekday, right?" and "who can I call in to cover for me?" And you try to figure out what's the bare minimum of preparations that you can do to get to work on time (or close to it) and not look like you just rolled out of bed? But there's seriously NO TIME, so you end up throwing something on that neither fits well nor matches, but who's going to notice anyway, and head on to work, only to get there and realize that you still feel grubby, smell funky, and these clothes won't be any more comfortable at the end of the day than they are now, so you just end up going back home and taking a proper shower like you should have done in the first place?

no?
ok, maybe that's just me.

Sometimes, eating the entire box

...of Girl Scout Cookies seems inevitable.

Without getting into the insane details, this has been a heck of a week. And I don't mean that in a good way. I am overcommitted on several fronts (some my fault, some not), and have been trying for the last few weeks just to keep my head from going underwater for too long at once. Please trust me when I say that I am understating the case, and we can both avoid a long, drawn out explanation of how rough things have been because really, does anyone need another "woe is me" tale?

(and yet I continue. ...hmmm.)

In the midst of all of this, I agreed to do a professional favor for someone. And I'm talking a BIG favor - one that committed me to many hours of additional work. Boy, was that a mistake. Never have I done a favor for someone so ungrateful. Instead of "gosh, that's kind of you to do that for me - how can I help?" I got, "can you also do This? and This? NO??!? Why not? I think I'll go WAY over your head and ask someone totally uninvolved to step in and take my side." In addition to seven or eight 12-hour days this month already, I was asked to come in to work 2 hours early for a meeting in which,...now take this one slow, to allow it to sink in...I was required to explain to my supervisor and two other people, WHY I had the nerve to do the favor the way I did it and not the way they wanted me to do it.

Are you kidding me?

Really?

THIS is how you repay a kindness?



wow. I'll NOT make the same mistake again with that person.
(venting is now over. positive posts will resume shortly.)

limp wet fish dishrag

I remember this one time back in oh,...junior high or so, my family and I went to the beach for a week. As was often the case, I met a cute boy, and we started hanging out, making out on the sand dunes at every possible opportunity (like ya do). At some point in the week, he had occasion to meet my dad. I introduced the two of them to each other and they shook hands. We all talked for a few minutes, then it was time to go.
As we pulled away, I asked Dad what he thought of The Guy. With no hesitation, he said, "he had a terrible handshake, like a wet dishrag" and went on to talk about how awful a bad handshake is. And went on and on about it. My Dad, the level-headed, kind, giving gentleman was so passionate about a bad handshake, and what implications it had for this boy his daughter liked.
As these things do, it stuck with me.
Recently, I met another wet dishrag handshaker. It was a female this time, and she was old enough to know better. Though I tried to ignore the urge, I couldn't, and I actually did wipe my hands off after the handshake. I don't doubt her hands were clean enough, but somehow I felt I'd been infected.
So what is this about handshakes? Why is it so important to get it right? When so many people know how to do it well, what's the excuse for those who don't? Did this lady think she was being feminine and delicate by not being firm with her handshake?



OK, that's all I really had to say at the moment.

Beethoven's Better With Your Eyes Closed

The other night I went to the Symphony with a friend of mine who likes classical music. And though I sell tickets to shows and concerts all day long, I rarely get to sit and enjoy them like a regular audience member. I found it to be very enlightening time, because we started the concert on the very front row, where I discovered that:
a) it's a bit close for a symphony, but probably lovely for a lecture or small combo
b) it's a tad chilly down there,
and
c) it's like sitting on the front row in church - you REALLY can't make comments and cut up and giggle, no matter what silly thoughts come to mind. And trust me - when you're sitting that close, almost in the spotlight yourself? Many Many silly thoughts come to mind.

So for Act 2, we went up to the balcony, where:
a) you can see EVERYTHING, including those poor saps on the front row - unless you're sitting directly behind The World's Tallest Man, as I was.
b) it's more than a little warm (due to the heat rising - I wonder if there are any seats where one can experience the happy medium?)
and
c) you can hear every cough, nose whistle, and rustling candy wrapper in the house. And there were a lot of 'em.

While I was sitting there in the balcony, listening to the concert and imagining shushing and smacking the hands - schoolmarm-style - of every candy rustler in the house (and telling the nose-trumpet guy to SNIFF, fercryinoutloud!), I closed my eyes.

And you know what? It actually sounded better. Pretty strange, I know. But with my eyes closed, I could imagine the orchestra was bigger and fuller. The lighting was better. The musicians were better-looking and more dignified. The music was washing toward me in waves. The World's Tallest Man had gone out for pie. It was a beautiful thing.

So do me a favor, wouldja? The next time you go to a concert, close your eyes, and tell me if you notice a difference in the sound. I'm curious to know if it's just me, or if it's just Beethoven.