I guess you might have been able to tell by my recent lack of posting that I've been working a heckuva lot of hours recently. Or maybe you thought that I'd been kidnapped by the local hillpeople. Both are reasonable assumptions, in my opinion. Fortunately (or unfortunately depending on your stance on kidnapping by hillpeople as an adventure sport), it's the former.
The big Boston launch of my organization is on Monday, so I'm in that slightly batshit crazy period as the minutes tick away and oh my gadge how is it 6 p.m. already I still have to print a 1,000 nametags and drop off 3,000 wristbands and plan a formal breakfast for 500 people and what about the PowerPoint and e-mail the board and collect more logos and finalize the agenda and and AND. But it's cool, ya'll. I got it covered. Because I'm having a great time doing it. It's exciting and meaningful and important and I haven't been responsible for even a single office fire.
Since I'm away from home anywhere between 12 and 16 hours a day, like I have so far this week, I reasonably or unreasonably drop the majority of the domestic responsibilities on B, who just a few months ago, wasn't even capable of picking up his dirty sweatsocks until I lost my shit and threatened to burn down the entire apartment.
Now, I say reasonably because I think it's fair for the person who is generally gone 12 hours a day to ask the person who generally works anywhere between three and six hours a day five minutes from home to do a couple chores, such as empty the dishwasher or sweep the floors or maybe even get dinner started. And the unreasonably part comes in when I come home and I'm utterly exhausted and gah help us all if there are dishes in the sink or dirt on the floor because I. Just. Worked. 12. Hours. AndthelastthingIwanttodoiscomehometoasinkfullofdirtydishes. GAH. Meaning, the majority of the conversations I've had with my husband over the last month have been an ongoing To Do list.
Ce la vie. ANYWAY. Like I said, this round of crunch time is almost over and after Monday I'll be able to breathe again. BUT before Monday comes Sunday, and if anyone has simultaneously planned an organization launch and a formal breakfast for 500 and a city-wide, multi-company event that all occur on the same day, you know the day before that big day is likely to be a tad INSANE. Like, lady in a bathrobe screaming at the pigeons while clipping her toenails on the public bus insane. At least, that's what I assume. And it just to happens that this day before the big day is this upcoming Sunday. And what I discovered last night to my utmost horror, this is also otherwise known as the night of the series finale of ONLY the greatest show on television: LOST.
B and I have been watching LOST for years. It all started in a cramped dorm room in New Zealand four years ago and has stuck with us from Auckland to Baltimore to Philadelphia to Boston. I'm emotionally attached to it. It's like my security blanket. It's traveled with me throughout some of the most important periods of my life and served as my entertainment comfort to curl up with on the couch while I suck my thumb and drink from my sippy cup. I'm invested.
And after Sunday, it'll all be over. GUUUUUUHHHHHHHH. But since I'll be running around the city like a madman on Sunday evening and won't even be coming home until Monday, I won't get to watch this final sure-to-be-utterly-heartbreaking episode until Monday night.
In other words, what I'm trying to tell you is this: IF ANY ONE OF YOU ASSHOLES EVEN *THINKS* THE WORD LOST IN MY GENERAL DIRECTION BEFORE I'VE SEEN THIS FINALE I WILL FUCKING DESTROY YOU.
Don't call me. Don't text me. Don't e-mail me. Don't comment here. Don't even THINK near me.
I'm a coffee drinker now. I get all hopped up and jittery. I startle easily. I throw a mean hook. If someone even starts to talk about what happens before I know if it's really Jack and why they're here and what happens to everyone else and what about Hurley and OH GAH THE BLACK CLOUD, there's no telling what I might do.
But until them, I'm back into my insanity cloud. Someone fax me a coffee.