Caterwauling

Missed an opportunity to speak up.

I recognized it. I told myself not to miss it. And then I clammed up.

Thought about a wonderful lunch I had with an old D.C. friend yesterday. God how nice to connect with someone from the same background (District denizen, publishing, intellectual, political, Florida transplant).

We spoke of how publishing is dead. He’s since left the biz because he demanded more and wasn’t getting it where he wanted it from. So he got it (money) somewhere else.

I said I didn’t think I could fall out of love with it. And that’s fine. But that doesn’t mean it will stay in love with me.

If ever it even was. Especially when I demand nothing from it because it supposedly has so little left to give right now.

I suggested a hire and we hired that person and OMG dream team.

Yes, I know. The giant meteor is on its way. But allow me to enjoy this rare moment in time of having a complete team that rocks.

Thank you, universe.

I’ll duck now …

Got to talking with a friend last week about “laying it all on the table.” Like, when you’ve left a relationship or job or friendship or other commitment, what will you have wish you’d given that you didn’t?

So yesterday, that translated into “four hours.” I worked for four hours and Mom cleaned the office. It feels like a completely different place. I took out four massive bags of trash that contained months worth of onions and god knows what. I haven’t yet sat on the cleaned-three-times toilet but I honestly cannot wait. Truly, it’s the little things.

So that, that’s what I wanted. Not going to claim I can die happy now or be escorted to the curb feeling like I achieved world peace. But the scent of newly mopped floors is quite stimulating for the brain, so I’m going to enjoy it.

1. That Cinderella got out of the castle yesterday (although that particular pumpkin almost got squashed by a stepsister who clearly doesn’t want the chimney unmanned).

2. That Cinderella spent half the night sweeping the damn chimney and thank God because that stepsister wants a whole bunch of time today rather than letting Cinderelly get back to the new chores that have since piled up.

I accepted a friend request I probably shouldn’t have.

The timing of its arrival was odd, since I broke up with him on a Valentine’s Day 20-some years ago.

Most years, I blame my lack of good Valentine’s Days on that unfortunately timed breakup. Which was accelerated by my being stuck at work till near-midnight and me not having anything resembling restraint toward this guy who nicely changed the dinner reservation THREE TIMES so he could take me out when I was finally free.

But being back in contact has brought it all back, why separate ways were the only ways.

I worry about decisions before I make them. And by worry, I mean agonize. So that when I make them, I am good. No regrets. So I have never thought about it since. Until now.

I got to thinking about why the universe brought us together in the first place. What lesson was I to learn, other than that I really don’t like to date men all that much? (I get that it’s “certain men.” Or ones with master’s degrees from my alma mater. Or anyone else who has stolen my air from the room. Which is all of them.)

It got me to thinking about a friend who says he has a type. Skinny, exotic-looking chicks are his thing.

But what’s my type?

This guy was probably a good example. Tall — over 6 feet. Sagittarius, give or take a few days. Dark hair. Democrat all the damn way. (And Dems do it better. I have irrefutable proof.) And apparently men who get their undergrad at the same school because I would go on to meet THAT person a couple years later.

And THAT person? Ruined me for the rest. I mean, not on purpose. But I know to beware tall, dark and handsome Democrats who spent four years in Morgantown, W.Va.

I got to thinking about types when it came to people to hire. You know, with suitors right at your door and you’re like, hmm, never went out with this kind. I could experiment or I can go back to what I know “works.”

Wish I had a few more princes to pick from. I’m sure my type is out there somewhere. And he’ll take my breath away, like the others did.

And maybe there’s happiness to be found with more of an archetype, as it were, than a type. (I know they aren’t antonyms. But I feel like I have to say it because America’s IQ is dropping and I’m afraid Cheeto Benito will have all the dictionaries and literature burned. Then us pink-hatted witches are next.)

In any event, I am getting the idea I am going to be alone for a while longer during the day and unfortunately the night. But I’d be lying if I said I minded all the space, glorious space. And that unquestionably started 20 years ago when I wanted (and eventually, after multiple tries, got) my freedom … and only once wanted to let it go.

As we all know, that didn’t stick.

And if anything were truly meant to be, I think the massive amount of space between me and everyone else is it.

One day I will call my momma  to tell her that I got a promotion or a raise or a special recognition or a bonus trip to Dominica. 

In the meantime, I just thank God she picks up her phone for the other kinds of calls. 

Mom deserves great news too. I look forward to her still being here for me to be able to deliver it. 

When you have anywhere from one to three hours’ worth of meetings a day (filed under: a good day), is that part of your supposed “eight hours” or do you put in eight hours on top of that?

I mean, I assume eight hours on top of meetings.

Just asking as I hang up the phone only to pick it up again and two more times after that.

Time to have my Senate Democrat hearing and prepare for my own personal DeVos.

So.

Someone somewhere proposed a new solution to something that may or may not be a problem.

So.

Someone else decided that we need to start using this “solution” ASAP.

So.

It is now 11 extra steps to a process that was already 36 steps too long.

I think I just found a tiny pocket of rage I hadn’t quite exhausted before.

I probably spend far more time analyzing situations than others do. It’s because I don’t know what I don’t know — and that includes what others are actually thinking.

I’ve never in my life asked to do less work. But with working from home a benefit that has ceased of late, I am working later and it’s screwing up my home life in a big way.

Last night I missed my shot to pick up the ham I ordered. And they have extended holiday hours. (I had to get up stupid-early to get it today. And got stuck in traffic because people are idiots.)

So with nowhere to go and nothing to lose, I threw a hail mary pass and asked to maybe replace some of next week’s projects with some others. Because usually I have to do those extra projects on my free time (nights/weekends). And it’s Christmas and I’d like to see my mom while I still have her. As she reminds me, everyone else gets to eat with their families.

My suggestion to replace A with B was not met with success. I didn’t get it and it dawned on me later that folks must have thought I was trying to do less.

But that wasn’t really the thing. It was more like wanting to knock out things that have been on the to-do list all year (research, writing reports, hiring help) that required blocks of time and therefore get shoved aside for all the other stuff that’s more urgent.

Because when I get asked (and rightfully so) about those OTHER things, I get apoplectic. I’m already apoplectic after that fucked-up election and the fact that Russia helped install a demagogue into our presidency. I would like a little peace where I can get it.

In any event, I got what I really wanted out of it, which was a n upcoming restoration of remote access. It’s not the “good” access but it will certainly do for now. And that I might actually get to have a hot meal with my mom again is the real win.

Some people want houses and marriages and kids and trips and TVs and “stuff.” I just want time. And health. And since you don’t get “extra” of either, to maximize the current allotment.

Trying to figure out when I’m going to get my Christmas errands done when I don’t even have time to leave for lunch or exit anywhere close to on time.

Fuck, I bring Xmas cards with me every day. Yesterday I didn’t even eat at all. And not one personal errand got done till I shoved (way too much) food in around 8.

(Cards still unaddressed/unwritten beside me …)

Then you get those weird questions about what you/your folks do all day. (Dance circles around the ones no one is asking about for $100, Alex.)

Also, one of those errands? I need a fucking tree since mine FELL ON ME while I was sleeping in front of it the other night.

Returned that shit. Just haven’t figured out a Plan B.

And at this rate, I probably won’t.