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Performance Anxiety

Ok, the story that I was chortling over in the last entry? It’s about to go live. I’m handing it in today. I’ve never done that before… gone from zero to workshop in less than five days. I’m freaking out about it. I keep looking back to my neatly stapled pack of 13 copies and I’m not going to lie, there is a little bit of hyperventilation. Just a little. I keep wanting to go back and reread it, feeling like one of those stage mothers (oh jeez, another mother/child analogy) straightening the bow on Jon-Benet’s perfect tendrils. I have a million meetings today and in between them, I come back to my desk and reread another part of it, cursing myself for the “four score and seven” mistake. Math, she is not my friend.

Also, I was feeling crampy last night and therefore not in the mood to cook or even think about eating and Esteban came into the bedroom where I was half-heartedly trying to match socks, asking what I wanted him to make for dinner. I told him not to worry because I didn’t feel like eating, so he could just make something for himself, the whole while thinking that what I really wanted was some High Maintenance Pizza, but it’s a pain in the ass because they don’t deliver and also I already feel as though I’m retaining five gallons of water so I didn’t want to add to it with delicious but salty pizza. And Esteban cocked his eyebrow and said “Oh? Not even if I got you some High Maintenance Pizza?” Sometimes the man knows me so well it’s just freaky. Because yes, exactly. Exactly. So how could I deny my longing? It was clearly meant to be. One mushroom and extra cheese pizza coming right up. Lovely. So a crampy Monday did not suck quite as much. Also, in three weeks, I will have a floor in my office! Decisions have been made! Wood has been ordered! Feel my wrath, To Do List! My god, the empowerment! With such iniative, I could do anything! Given several years to make the necessary decisions, of course.

But! It is this boy’s birthday. Happy 30th, Big Poppa.

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