So, where were we?
Right, I spent the day being shot out of a cannon. So it seemed.
The usual get-everyone-out-of-the-house chaos compounded by work-related crises. And finding out ticket presales were to start this morning--always a good time in a highly visceral, adrenaline-pumping sort of way. Giggling long distance and virtually with D. over the same.
(And little internal whispers of "aren't you getting too old for this?" But then D. starts talking about how I really should have poked someone in the foot, and I realize that where this is concerned, I'm always going to be about 16 and engulfed in delightful terror. Heart-pounding, butterflies-in-stomach, knees-turn-to-water nerves. My charming 40-ish wrinkles notwithstanding.)
Of course, before all the F5 key warm up, I was once again besieged for my professional expertise, and while playing catch-and-release with subpar tickets, I was making phone calls and trying to sound like a competent adult who knew her job.
Person on phone: "Hierarchies."
Me (thinking, "what?"): "Why, of course."
Person on phone: "And your client..."
Me (thinking, "nonononono."): "Naturally."
Then the doorbell started ringing. I have a policy of not opening the door to anyone I don't know, especially when I'm home alone. The same group of unknowns has been showing up for the last week or so, and I've been steadfastly not opening the door, but today's tiny elderly man of foreign extraction wasn't taking NO! for an answer. He wouldn't stop ringing the doorbell. Given the fact he only came up to about my waist and the woman with him was similarly tiny, I opened the door.
It was about religion, of course. The man was polite and earnest in offering me an invitation to visit the local parish, and I equally politely declined. Unlike the usual suspects, he took me at my word, and didn't try to argue, for which I was grateful. I didn't really have the heart to go into...all that. And "no, thank you," should always be enough.
And on and on it went, until here I am. Still trying to talk myself into finishing the taxes. I have an appallingly cavalier attitude about that. Worrisome.
Tomorrow: more of the same. Perhaps without the doorbell.
Go listen to some good music: "Cannons" from the album Tinderbox by Siouxsie and the Banshees.