But then at 4:30PM The Funasaurus called me. His firm was taking their summer associates to a night at the local amusement park, and someone had to back out, so he scored a free ticket and wanted me to join them. Warm summer nights, thrilling rides, fried food topped off with ice cream? How could I say no? So I dropped everything, changed my pants (pajama pants don't fly, even at the amusement park) threw on some make-up, grabbed a small purse to transfer the contents of my normal purse/duffle bag into, and headed out the door. Where I paused.
And pausing, children, is a dangerous thing.
Pausing allows GUILT to creep in. My work was not done, upstairs. There were thank-you notes to be written, dishes to be washed, and suitcases still to be unpacked. There were needy cats weaving figure eights around my ankles as I pondered all this, and then I realized I had to go through all the mail, too.
FUNNEL CAKES! screamed a little voice inside of me.
UNEMPLOYMENT! screamed another little voice.
Ignoring my newfound schizophrenia, I began to panic. And panic is not really fun-inducing. So I called The Funsaurus from the doorstep, looking fondly at my little car who thought it would get to watch the roller coasters, and told him I couldn't make it.
Then I trudged back upstairs, and did a little work, updated my MySpace page, and sadly went to bed.
Just call me Eeyore. I believe I have lost my ability to have fun.
10 comments:
Oh, no! I'm so sad for you that you couldn't go. But I understand, too. I probably would have gone through the same guilt-filled thought process. And even if I had decided to go, i would have spent the whole night stressing about all the stuff i still had to do. I feel your pain.
Thanks for stopping by our little cybercult - you are welcome anytime.
As for your ability to have fun, it has been replaced by a horrible malady known as "adulthood." Happened to me once. I was cured by daily pillow fights and a handful of M&Ms each morning, washed down with a white russian...
(I'm sort of jealous that my friends don't call me "the Funasaurus.")
Oh, boo! But understandable. Its scary how fast "responsibility" creeps up on a person. Wasn't it much more fun being a teenager with no cares in the world?
Did the Funasaurus bring you home a funnel cake?
Working from home can be a challenge - I figure I've saved the dressing and commute time, so I can screw around a bit, but some times I wish I was more organized about it . . .
Don't get too responsible, the benefits won't outweigh the costs
Wow, that was really responsible of you. Have the aliens stolen the real princess?
I think you're actually a very responsible real person. It's your writer persona - your inside soul - that's the princess. Am I right? Because no one who is going to be a LIBRARIAN is all carefree all the time. I'm onto you.
Oh, Mama P is soooooo good - she is right you know?
I used to work from home with Punkinhead was a babe. It's not the best fit for my structure loving personality...so I totally get what you're saying!
Audrey- Thanks. Although when did we become so responsible? Bah!
His Sinfulness- Am still infatuated with the Black Vatican. Brilliant! And this whole "adulthood" thing? Blows.
Mishy- No! No funnel cake! Jerk.
Diane- I struggle with the organization, too. But I love that I can take a break and get a load of laundry done in the process.
Meno- I think you might be on to something.
MamaP- I don't know what you're talking about.
Ham- It's not my natural structure, either, but I love being at home so much I try to make it work.
Haha!! I love that updating the MySpace page was part of the schedule for the evening--it's really very important!
I see you found the site of the papal apartments also - well done, blog pilgrim. Welcome to the Flock...
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