I sat down to write a post about how busy I’ve been and how it’s going to continue this way until February, because I know how much my busy life means to you – probably more than your own busy life means to you – and no matter how busy you are you can say to yourself, “at least I’m not as busy as she is.” And then you can be grateful for not being quite so busy as my sorry busy ass. And you can also be grateful for having a better understanding than I have of punctuation.
Gratitude people; it’s the season of gratitude!
But I’m soooo tired (that was a whine in case there was any doubt). I’m having trouble just holding my head up, and I can’t see the words on the monitor because my eyes tear when I yawn and I can’t stop yawning.
And the donut I ate about an hour ago is sitting in my stomach mocking me for thinking I could get away with eating it.
Just for the record, I don’t usually eat donuts. I only drink the coffee from the donut getting place so I can feel smug while others are eating the donuts. I don’t know what the hell I was thinking, so I must conclude that I wasn’t thinking.
It happens more often than I’d like to admit – this not thinking thing.
Like… I wasn’t really thinking when I signed on to direct local children’s theatre. I’m pretty sure I was experiencing a prolonged moment of insanity. Or, quite possibly, I was having a stroke.
The result being that, as of this week, I’ve auditioned about 25 tweens and cast a play which I now have to make work.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
Oh, and they’re 10 to 12 year olds so I can’t say things like “shut the fuck up” when they all start talking at once.
I am so screwed. The responsibility of expectations, combined with a producer who likes to talk and who I can’t get off the phone in less than 35 minutes, compounded with another part-time holiday job and the fact that I still have gifts to make, laundry to do, dinner to cook, and dishes to wash may just send me far enough over the edge to self-medicate until sometime after my birthday in March.
The end result of all of this is that I am so freakin’ tired.
I mean, more than usual.
And the days are short and dark.
And fifth and sixth graders are fucking loud.
And hungry. They’re always hungry.
Never turn your back on hungry children.
I wonder what would happen if I fed them all donuts.
And then sent them home.