I think my post holiday blahs have now turned into FULL BLOWN SEASONAL AFFECTIVE DISORDER. Which makes making it to an early appointment on time a problem. On top of FBSAD, I had to get ready for an early appointment the other day on no sleep.
Couldn’t sleep because I had taken a horrid boot camp class where we had to go back to back with another person and loop elbows and go around the gym putting our butts on the floor and getting back up again. I was paired up with a muscle man who ended up dragging me around the gym by my elbows.
So one shoulder might have been ripped out of socket or something. It was so sore, I couldn’t get to sleep until like 3:00 am.
When I woke up, late, I ran in circles trying to figure out what to do first. Because after finally falling asleep, I had over slept.
I was living proof that what Napoleon once said to his manservant, “Dress me slowly, I’m in a hurry” is absolutely true. But it is also absolutely against my high-strung spaz-out nervous nature to follow it.
Should I wash my hair? I had planned to wash it, but now am squeezed for time. Must do the old silk groom and flat iron dirty hair trick. If ever get an award (like the first ever Black Box Awards) I will say in my speech, “I owe my career to the Chi Flat Iron.”
Had to hold two jars of Saint Dalfours jam (one for each eye) over my eyes to get rid of the puffiness.
The sweater I just HAD to wear had a big hole in the sleeve. I had planned to sew it. But now no time. I have a million sweaters, but you have to wear what feels right for that day, so I wore it anyway, and pushed up the sleeves.
Took me a good ten minutes to get my new boots on. But HAD to wear those also.
Did a partial makeup job. Must finish it on the subway. Hoped to have time to do it on the platform, as the fascinated stares of the other passengers as I put on mascara and make the mascara face make me cringe. I should put “applying mascara in a moving car” with the special skills my resume.
I somehow never got around to working with the script, so read it on the the subway, after I put on the mascara.
I am off book when the train pulls into the station where I am getting off.
I get there on time. With a torn sweater and blobby mascara.
I get to the waiting area and find that they have double booked the time slots and are running way behind.
“You don’t get it. I could be sewing my sweater right now!” I think. “I busted my ass to get here on time and put mascara on in the subway!”
The reason it bothered me that they were running late, was that I was running late.
Otherwise what’s twenty minutes? But after I skipped so many steps to get there on time, it irks.
In general I have a forty-five minute rule. I’ll wait forty-five minutes and then I’m outta there. Makes me feel good about myself.
But the holy sweater is working my nerves now that THEY are running late.
But when they bring me in, I am, of course, ALL SMILES. Bravely rising above my FBSAD.
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