Oh, December

So, December was... insanely busy. Correction: November and December were incredibly busy.


I guess anyone who ever worked in Corporate America knows the feeling*--the yearly complaint that work ruined any chance to enjoy: Advent, preparing for Christmas, or even the decorations, and forget about shopping (I get it done in early November to avoid crying in line the last few days before Christmas.) I still have my cards and some decorations up because I want to enjoy them, darnit! January is my Advent do-over.


My focus for most of that time revolved around work, travelling for work, and some other stressful things that happened to come up in the meantime. I usually ate lunch and dinner at my job. Sometimes breakfast. By the time I hit my vacation time, I was ready to forget the day job for two weeks.


There was a point sometime in early December when I had a mini breakdown and even yelled "I give up!" with my forehead pressed against the steering wheel in the parking lot of what I lovingly call "apartment hell."** It might have been right after a really stressful morning drive. Or maybe the nutty apartment complex lady had just passed and peered into my car. Twice. (She's a little creepy that way.)


Having a call with my agent, Carrie Howland of Donadio and Olson, right outside a work cadaver lab (I have a weird job) might have balanced things out that month the tiniest bit, though.


Anyway, the first third of December was insanely busy. I have to admit, the last third was fun, except it was so hard to keep some exciting news secret. And now I'm back at the day job, recharged, and ready to, well, you can read the note I wrote to myself this morning:

(Deena made this mug! It’s a chalkboard!)


How is 2014 treating all of you?


*unless you work in finance in a company whose fiscal year doesn't end in December. And, yes, I somehow know way too many people who have odd-time-of-year staying late and ordering pizza to the office stories.


**It's not awful, just populated with the strangest cast of characters ever. And 2 hours from my beloved Pine Barrens. You tell me a place isn't weird when the old guy across the way pops out to talk to you wearing just his boxers. Or when the other old guy upstairs yells at you for closing your door too loudly. Or when one of the upstairs neighbors keeps shoving stuff down the drain so that my bathroom floods (this happened three times.) Or when your tub fills with sewage during a storm (also three times.) Oh, apartment hell.