So, it's been what? like, a week? since we've talked? Or rather, since I talked and you listened? And that last post, the one about A's mustache and his nose and the effort involved in having the two meet-- well, that doesn't really count as a post.
I can't even really tell you what I've been doing, except maybe being a little sad and dulled. Just blah. Nothing serious. I'd like to say it's the result of a little system shut-down, prompted by being overwhelmed with various events and commitments and possibilities and plots and plans, but I don't think that's it. Or maybe it is. It has finally turned cold here, and rainy, and cloudy, and I'm thinking that has something to do with it. Whatever. It's a blah-feeling, like I said, and that makes me not even want to explore it. It's just a case of the Dull Blah. I wore my pajamas from Saturday night straight through until this morning. That's a pretty good explanation.
So, here are some things:
Bird did not sleep at all Saturday night. I mean, she slept from about 9 until midnight, after a super fun dinner at T and D's house, where she wore a fabulous tutu of O's that made her look like a little peacock. A little nineties grunge peacock with her button-up henley and baggy cargo pants and little knit hat. Plus giant tutu. She played hard, ate little (too busy). And crashed as soon as we got home.
Around midnight, she sounded the "alarm" cry, which is different than the "Leave me alone for a second, I can get over this" cry. So I went in. And, sparing you the minute-by-minute details, Bird and I "slept" together on the couch, where she would tolerate no positioning that did not involve full contact with my body at all times. And she kicked me in the stomach. A LOT.
Come to think of it, this night of missed sleep could be contributing substantially to my Dull Blah.
I have a sizable freelance project swirling about at the moment, and I have reverted to late-college mode, where I acknowledge the work to be done but do none of it. I start the project late, and then only do a small portion of the work before seeking distraction. The danger of this mode is that sometimes I have to ask for an extension, or worse --I'm going to whisper the next part: the project just doesn't get done. In my defense, the research involved in my current pile of mess depends on other people fucking calling me back, but still, there's stuff I could be doing. And I'm not doing it. It's like I'm staring it down.
Speaking of writing projects, I had a promising meeting with a company last week that could potentially be a decent pipeline of work for me. And the possibility of steady work leads to other possibilities, lifestyle shifts, giant line items (daycare) leaving the budget, new daily routines, etc. I think you know where I'm going with this. Keep in mind that we're talking about advertising people here, and they certainly spout a fair amount of horseshit. So we'll see. At said meeting, the creative director introduced me to the president as "Mama Snee, Copywriter Extraordinaire," which is exactly how my old boss used to introduce me, which made a cold chill run down my spine. Again, we'll see.
I've been doing a shocking amount of work-related work this past week, which has cut into my general fucking around time. And that is part of the reason you've not heard from me. Last week I had a stellar review with a li'l bump in the money department, and the saddest and most pit-of-your-stomach-try-not-to-weep-until-you-get-to-the-car home visit yet. So there you have it. The yin and the yang.
This evening, I'll attend the Board meeting across town at the Fancy Office, and I noticed upon arrival at the Humble Office this morning that my pants are pretty much covered in cat hair and there is some kind of snot smeared in various locations on my black shirt (that I got at goodwill for $4. TAKE THAT, BANANA REPUBLIC). *
Here's a secret you won't find surprising: we work in a "casual" office, and I push the word "casual" to it's extreme casual end on most every day. I have exactly three costumes for looking professional, and I try to wear them for only the necessary amount of time, removing them promptly upon returning home to avoid any washing or dry cleaning. And apparently, this particular costume could have used some attention after its last go 'round.
There will be fancy hors d'ovures at this meeting, about which I am FUCKING STOKED. Simultaneously fucking stoked and socially apprehensive, as I am fully aware that my fancy manners could use some polishing and am also fully aware that I will arrive at this meeting in a starving state and may not be able to stop myself from sitting at the Fancy Office conference table, shoving artichoke-spread toast points and fancy asparagus in my mouth one after another, smearing brie over the already awesome snot spots on my chest and talking with my mouth full. Oh, and I have a gigantic zit on the tip of my nose that is, I swear, visibly throbbing.
Like I said, Dull Blah.
*Don't get confused here. The snot is either mine or Bird's. I did not buy a snot-covered shirt at Goodwill and just throw it in the rotation.