Wow. I am wound up so tight if I were to trip on my shoelace I’d probably go sailing up over the treeline. (Does that even make sense? Who cares, really?) A long time ago I used to have two jobs (barrista in the morning, waitress/restaurant manager by evening) and go to school in San Francisco, which was 57.5 miles from where I lived in the Santa Cruz mountains. Back then gas was about a dollar a gallon and I drove a Mazda RX7 (with a sunroof, natch) so the commute was just a scenic drive with good music.
And, you know, I thought that I was SO busy, and that from then on out, my life would be more manageable and less hectic.
Let me take a moment to laugh at that silly young girl who had no idea she was simply honing her busy skills for a lifetime of bouncing around from task to task like a panicked pinball on speed.
I’ve got a list of ShitToDo that is, literally, longer than my arm. The BlogHer conference is this week, and I’m admittedly one of the shallow and vain ones who feels the need for new shoes and sparkly toenails and all that. I’m not going up to the hotel until Thursday, but I’m going to begin packing tonight because the week ahead of me is so jam packed with ShitToDo that it’s now or never. I shouldn’t complain, because lots of my list is fun stuff. Shoe shopping? Bring it! Pedicure? I know! You are calling the wahmbulance for me this very minute. I guess this busy is of the mostly exhilarating kind. Honestly, I prefer life this way. I’ve always been a candle at both ends kinda person.
It’s all fine, so long as I don’t burn out.