I have been wracking my brains trying to figure out what to write about this week. Finally, as the deadline loomed big and ominous and bossy-like, I sat around yawning and asking my 10-year-old for ideas.
He suggested Canada Day, but in the news world that would be old by the time the paper came out.
I suggested “change,” since there has been a lot of it lately. He said he could see me writing a dandy column (okay, he didn’t say “dandy”) about change and routines. I pondered it, but decided it might be too depressing. I’m Type A. I like my routines. We’ll see how the changes work out, first.
At that point I looked over at Boychild. “Have I mentioned how much I like your hair cut shorter?” I said, knowing full well that I say it over and over.
“You could write about haircuts!” he suggested.
We considered this. I figure there is only so much I could say about haircuts, although there was that time recently at the hairdresser’s when I bonded with another curly haired woman over the pitfalls and drama associated with natural curls and how those freaky straight-haired people out there just don’t understand.
Boychild started to compose the column for me: “I like short hair” and “blah blah blah.”
We decided that wouldn’t really do. I yawned again.
“I could write about how tired I am,” I said.
I had been counting on the long weekend as my opportunity to catch up on some sleep. The plan worked well on Friday night, but fell to pieces on Saturday night when various people and creatures decided to only allow me two or three hours of sleep at a time. (What is UP with that?!)
Not to mention I had a sweet, caffeine-laced chocolate treat (duh) before bed that made it tricky to fall asleep. I was doomed from the start.
As I write this, I am counting on Sunday night to salvage what is left of my frazzled self. Wish me luck.
See, last week was The Week That Never Seemed to End.
One of the joys of being self-employed is that you tend to have flexibility with your time, which is great when you have a young family. One of the not-joys is that you also run the risk of having a deadline slam, which is when, despite your best efforts, the planets align (or misalign or even collide, depending upon your interpretation), and everything needs to be done at once.
That was last week. (It was actually most of last month, really, but last week was the kicker.)
Last Monday I took a great deep breath and started the marathon. Perhaps this was my own version of the Kilt Run?
Mile markers involved a 24-page newsletter, media releases, council meetings, other meetings, the usual teaching, finishing a script, and a bunch of other stuff. Oh, and with the kids off from school as of Wednesday, there was lots of Ground Rule Setting and Refereeing and threats to “Send You Away to Lost Harbour Military School and Summer Camp.”
One particularly late night was navigated by listening to my running playlist while I worked. Very versatile playlist, that one. It gets me through all sorts of stuff.
A week always seems longer when you spend a lot of it awake. The people around you, even if they are getting more sleep, tend to notice it, too. (My people were oh-so-lucky to be around me last week....)
In any event, I plodded – and sometimes sprinted – through it. Perhaps this week will be a tad more sedate, and maybe next week will feature a column that is not so sleepy!
Published in The Perth Courier, July 5/12
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