I'm Really Quite Terrible At Breathing Like A Normal Person
I feel like Goldie Hawn's character in Overboard when she's gone catatonic in a corner and her four so-called sons are busying themselves by throwing grapes at her mouth, only no one's actually throwing grapes at my mouth, and I'm hungry. Also, I'm not catatonic.
I think what I really mean is that I envy Goldie Hawn's character in Overboard, because she gets to be catatonic and have grapes, while I just get to be panicked about everything I have to get done in the next 36 hours while three cats stare on in bewilderment and refuse to learn how to serve me some damn dinner.
The Palinode and I leave for Blissdom Canada in Toronto on Thursday morning, and before then, I have to design eleventy skillion things, buy extra cat litter, make up extra litter boxes for the cats, launder all the clothes, pick up my coat where I left it at a friend's house, work up some speaking notes for my Blissdom Canada panel called The Art And Science Of Finding Inspiration – And Using It, read half a book, pack my suitcase, make it through a dentist appointment slated to be at least two hours long, and and and and and and and lots of other stuff.
Right now I am hiding out in bed, working from the padded safety of several blankets and three pillows, and I am reminding myself to please actually breathe like a normal person once in a while. I'm really quite terrible at it.
Luckily, my eyes have started to fail me. They won't focus anymore, and they keep registering what looks like sunspots when I look at stuff, so I am forced to stop staring at the computer for a while and actually go shower and find sustenance.
You know it's a great day when the early stages of blindness present a silver lining for you.
Here's to showering! And maybe a sandwich! Heave, ho!
I think what I really mean is that I envy Goldie Hawn's character in Overboard, because she gets to be catatonic and have grapes, while I just get to be panicked about everything I have to get done in the next 36 hours while three cats stare on in bewilderment and refuse to learn how to serve me some damn dinner.
The Palinode and I leave for Blissdom Canada in Toronto on Thursday morning, and before then, I have to design eleventy skillion things, buy extra cat litter, make up extra litter boxes for the cats, launder all the clothes, pick up my coat where I left it at a friend's house, work up some speaking notes for my Blissdom Canada panel called The Art And Science Of Finding Inspiration – And Using It, read half a book, pack my suitcase, make it through a dentist appointment slated to be at least two hours long, and and and and and and and lots of other stuff.
Right now I am hiding out in bed, working from the padded safety of several blankets and three pillows, and I am reminding myself to please actually breathe like a normal person once in a while. I'm really quite terrible at it.
Luckily, my eyes have started to fail me. They won't focus anymore, and they keep registering what looks like sunspots when I look at stuff, so I am forced to stop staring at the computer for a while and actually go shower and find sustenance.
You know it's a great day when the early stages of blindness present a silver lining for you.
Here's to showering! And maybe a sandwich! Heave, ho!