Sunday was my first book fair. [Golf claps.] Let me tell you, book fairs, no matter how small, are a lot of work. Even if you are simply attending one, they are a pain. Still, we do them, support them, attend them and, at the end of them -- as we rub our sore feet and aching backs -- we all wonder Why?
I scrambled around at the last minute to get everything done, no so much because I'm a procrastinator (okay, some of it was), but because my life has (as previously noted) radically changed in the last two weeks, and I don't have the free time or energy I once enjoyed/took for granted. By the way, did you know Mercury is retrograde? Yeah. That puts a hitch in anyone's giddy-up. You don't have to be a follower of astrology to buy it. Trust me, it's the only thing in the stars I look out for. Look it up and welcome yourself to an Ah-HA! moment.
As Mercury Retro/Murphy's Law would have it, poor Kinko's screwed up my banner twice. First, the S wasn't capitalized in the book title. The second time they did it in the wrong pink. End result: Two banners for the price of one. They are nice at Kinko's.
Side note: My booth only cost $60. I spent quadruple that on "supplies". I over-hostess everything.
In spite of my efforts, I went to bed rather late on Friday night. Yes, it was a Friday night and one is supposed to break curfew on a Friday night, but I am in desperate need of sleep. The plan was to watch the debate, give myself a pedi and hit the hay at a respectable hour because Saturday morning I'd be up early to do Sunday's laundry and run the aforementioned errands. When the alarm goes off five hours after your head hits the pillow, it's going to make for a very long day.
I fought the urge to nap that afternoon by going to Starbucks. Yes, my eleven months of Starbuck-sobriety ended this week (you may want to buy their stock again). I am no longer caffeine-free. Wednesday, I broke. Thursday, I went in again. Saturday, it was strictly medicinal so I could finish everything and stick with the early-to-bed plan for sure this time.
Let's just say God's been laughing at me lately. A lot.
Now, when a man calls you from the middle of a Long Island wedding in the midst of a demi-existential crisis, you take the call. After the call, you might even send a reminder text that you are going to bed extra early because the alarm is set for six. After a text or two more, you feel it is appropriate to confirm that pumpkin hour has arrived and sleep is imminent. You kind of think that's that. But, thirty minutes later, when The Clash rocks out from your 'Berry, you kind of wonder WTF? Because you are a caring individual, you answer. It's noted this will be a short call. An hour later, however, you are really wondering WTF is up with the both of you? He can't tell time and you think dozing while he carries the conversation counts as half-sleep points. Finally, you end the call when the math skills kick in and you realize that the alarm is going to go off in four hours. At this point, you know you are totally screwed.
I had this idea to vlog some of the book fair. Whip out the Flip, just for giggles, starting with the early morning wake up call. Surely, there would be some humor to be had. Instead, I hit the snooze button in my sleep, as I've been known to do, and woke up an hour late. Fugme. That meant a power shower, turbo blowdry, extra spackle on the dark circles and no pit-stop at Starbucks. It was all I could do to manage my wheelie-milk-crate-thing and floral arrangement. The camera would have surely been a casualty. Trust me, all that you missed was my hair going from a slightly attractive style considering the unfortunate-for-me cut into something truly tragic, which I had to wear all day, including during a stock interview for a local cable access channel. Sigh. I have got to learn how to politely say no.
After the end of a truly long day at the end of a terribly short weekend, I was supposed to have dinner with my friend/colleague. He and I both admitted to being tired but so didn't want to flake on each other that we danced around the subject for a good five minutes under the guise of "deciding" where to dine. Finally, we were able to pull the plug. I've never been so happy to have a last minute cancellation in my life. I adore my friend, enjoy spending time with him, but wanted nothing more than my ass in yoga pants, feet up on the sofa with dinner in my belly and Dexter and Trueblood on my TV. I didn't even have the energy to crack open a Guinness. I had to save that for plucking out my contacts, de-spackling my face and flossing. Tonight, I will make it to bed before midnight. I don't care who calls.