Okay, so months ago I decided that I was going to go both to Yaoi-Con-- which is this weekend-- and to GRL, which starts in a week. Yeah, yeah, months ago, I knew it wouldn't be easy, but I'd deal, right?
Yeah. You want to know what my head looks like right now? You know those bingo cages, where you throw all the numbers in and roll the little handle and all the numbers are rolling around? Yeah. The little old lady in my head keeps turning that crank, reaching in, and pulling out a number. Which number is it? Is it the, "OMG, which swag am I taking to which event?" number? Is it the, "Oh fuck! I'm sending this shit WHERE?" number? Perhaps it's the, "Wait. What was I going to take Chicken so she could meet me there?" number. There's always the whopping freak out number-- the "HOLY SHIT, DREAMSPINNER'S STUFF HASN'T ARRIVED YET, AND I NEED IT TO SET UP OUR BOOTH IN L.A.!!!" number. Or maybe it's a smaller number. Maybe it's G2 or B6, because, well, fuck, why WOULDN'T they come up? Everything ELSE is in there to be sorted, right? I mean, I've got a box of swag ready to be shipped to St. Augustine for February, a box that I'm taking myself, somewhere in there I packed a box of Scrapbooking supplies (no, don't ask!) that I didn't acquire until Chicken's going away party and sent it to someone in Albuquerque (did I say don't ask?) and clothes?
Oh holy fuck. Why didn't the number with clothes come up earlier? I have to pack CLOTHES?
*bangs head softly*
Oh holy frickin' Jebus, I don't even know what the weather's going to be like! You think I'm kidding? Remember that letter I wrote to summer in which I asked it to go the fuck away?
Yeah, Summer READ that letter, and took a look at my bingo balls rolling around, laughed herself silly and WENT THE FUCK AWAY. And now, Fall is like, "Ta-DA, darling, you sent for me? I'm here!" And my wardrobe is like, "Fuck ME, you're WHAT?"
And of course the kids need to be fed/read to/cuddled, and I seem to have a deadline shoved in there, and a flight to LA, and because the gods aren't kind, a shuttle, and oh fuck, do we really need groceries and what was I taking to Yaoi-Con and what was I taking to Albuquerque and, oh yeah, I'm ART DOCENT today, because I needed to know more about Matisse, Picasso, and Cassat RIGHT THE HELL NOW!
*pant pant pant*
By the way, do you know that as Matisse was pulling away from home in the train, on his way to art school in Paris, his father screamed "You'll starve!" at the train? (Sounds like my parents. I wonder if they're related?) And that Pablo Picasso's mother said, "If you wanted to be a soldier, you would have been a general. If you'd wanted to be a priest, you would have been Pope." To which Picasso added, "But I wanted to be an artist, so I became Picasso!" (God. Talk about giant ball balls.) Anyway, now *I* know that, and I know that Maria Cassatt pained portraits because that's what women were SUPPOSED to paint, but she painted women and children being sweet to each other, and that's what makes her awesomeness. Anyway, now *I* know all these things, and I know my daughter's class is made up of goofballs and that the teacher's aid screams too much and so does the sub and that the little kids like to beat up on girls which makes my theory of the political influence on domestic abuse sound SO much more righteous right now and...
OH holy crap. My bingo cage is still rolling...
OMYGOD! WHAT'S MY RESERVATION NUMBER FOR THE HARD ROCK AGAIN?
*pant pant pant* Okay. Sorry about that. Spazzing down, repeat, spazz down, repeat, big redheaded woman pulling BACK from rampage...
Anyway, so here I was, being a big rattling bingo cage, and trying to spazz down, when Zoomboy comes tiptoeing into the kitchen.
"Mom," he said, scaring the shit out of me, "It got REALLY quiet in here!"
"I KNOW!!!!" I wailed, and he must have seen something odd in my face because he RAN BACK TO BED which was, coincidentally, WHERE HE WAS SUPPOSED TO BE IN THE FIRST PLACE!
*bingo ball* Oh, fuckadoodledoo... what was I supposed to be writing again?
*whimper* Aw fuck.
(Oh, hey-- don't forget the Dex Ficlet over on Mary's blog. It calms me down knowing it's there!)