In Which Our Heroine Gets a Little Overbooked
Ah, the runaround. I'm on it. I'm doing it. It is fun though. It started Wednesday. Leave work, go to meeting, go to church for Ash Wednesday (40 minutes late! Eep!), go to dinner, go to BED! Had to go to bed, as Thursday it was doctor's appointment at 8, court date at 9, work by 10, out of work, dinner with Liz, go to bed again. Because Friday it was morning phone meetings, go to work, leave, meet Matt, then go meet Tim, then go meet Suffolk classmates for reunion drinks, then another meeting. Eek!
It isn't going to end as far as I can see. Even this weekend, I have a TONNE of work to do, somewhere sandwiched in around a breakfast meeting tomorrow, lunch meeting, dinner meeting and then babysitting. Sunday's not much better. And I have REALLY got to get this place whipped into babyworthy shape for Elenarda arriving on Thursday. Ummmmmmmmm.......that is going to take rather a lot of effort.
I'm looking forward to her visit, but between paid work, work that doesn't involve being paid, and all kinds of other things, I'm starting to wonder when I'll actually see the poor girl! Things are getting swamped.
The temp job at the moment is quite wonderful. I am cataloging the score collection for the Harvard University Jazz Band. Yes, these people are band geeks. I keep waiting for someone to say "one night? At band camp?" but I have to say that they are exceptionally nice people, and in terms of the staff I'm working with, exceptionally bright and fascinating people. I seem to be on a crash course to learn about jazz, and it is working. I work at the computer of whomever is outside the office at the time, and today that was Professor Everett. The work itself is not so terribly fascinating, just your basic compiling of information, but never mind, the atmosphere is relaxed. In fact, maybe a little too much so. I had been encouraged to use Prof. Everett's CD player, so I grabbed the CD off the top of the stack and hit "play." Ella Fitzgerald and Count Basie. Big band at its finest. Not only could I sing along (no one was on the entire floor to hear, thank heavens for small mercies), but when you listen to that sort of music, everything you do winds up having a bit of a flourish to it. Bit of zing, bit of zap. Ta da! Somewhere, I'm sure I'm on CCTV, and there is a security guard watching me, and just cracking up all day long. Rarely has entering data into an Excel spreadsheet caused such zing.
Much to do, must sleep and prepare for the weekend.
Love,
Anne