I’d write more,
August28
But I seem to have lost my brain.
I know its here… somewhere… under the pile of invoices that have to be dealt with, the outgoing mail, the document approvals, the contracts to be looked at, the stacks of time cards, the out basket filled with things needing filing, the concrete supply tickets, the requests for information, or the outgoing Purolator envelopes. Maybe it’s the fact that the phone hasn’t stopped ringing since I got here at 7:30am, mostly with people wanting things to start RIGHT NOW…
Or it could just be a lack of caffeine today… which I doubt, because I have had at least 1 extra large Tim Horton’s today… and I’m working on my second.
I’m voting it’s the mounting paperwork on my desk… the busy time has come to us and I am scrambling to keep up amidst the ever increasing number of job titles that I carry here – I am:
- Receptionist
- Contract administration
- Accounts Payable
- Accounts Recievable
- Shipper/Reciever
- Bookkeeper
- Office gopher
- Payroll clerk
- Office IT
And I am busy… sometimes TOO busy. My brain has broken under the weight of my massive at-work “to do” list… and my home list isn’t any shorter, just so you know. I’m a list maker, although I’m not the best at making sure that I am accomplishing the tasks I set before myself before adding another pile. So what has been happening is a feeling that the in basket pile is going to topple over on me… figuratively AND literally.
At work I am slogging through the small details that keep the office going, day by day it seems the pile grows rather than shrinks, and as soon as I clear up one thing I have another pile slowly taking on a life of its own in the corner, small growls and groans coming from it. But, such is the life of the office administrator, nothing much to do about it but grab the whip and tackle the mess, or at least beat it into submission with the “recieved” stamp.
At home, my job titles are:
- cook
- housekeeper
- limo driver
- personal shopper
- personal groomer
- Cat-apolis 500 flag bearer
-
laundry wench
-
all about do-all, girl-friday,
So the situation seems to be about the same at home as it is at work, only there are less people looking over my shoulder, but substantially MORE cats. And the cats aren’t just looking over my shoulder, they are crawling up onto my shoulders, licking my chin, standing on my head, climbing up my pants, sleeping in my lap, attacking my pens while I write, and attacking me when I’m attempting to eat things. And when I sit down, they start the Cat-apolis 500… chasing each other around the entire apartment as fast as their furry fury allows, over and under around and through things that are in their way… including ME, sneaking out from things to jump upon one another — after all sabotage is the name of the game and the only way to WIN.
Amid the ongoing blur of black-on-black and black-on-white fuzzballs there are things I am supposed to be doing, but can’t seem to bring myself to keep up with– dishes, cooking, laundry — and hobbies that are calling me, but have fallen to the wayside –cross stitch, knitting, sewing, scrapbooking. But all I have found that I WANT to do is write…
about the furry-blurries running by, stopping only to bite my foot
about the toothfreedom that the boy has achieved
about the thrill of the upcoing trip…
about the saga of my love life, or lack thereof…
But I, always the responsible person, have made a commitment to get things back in order (or as much as the ongoing racers will allow, for as long as they will allow)… and so I am off to tackle the growling pile of laundry, the small load of dishes, and the scatter of papers which have become victims of the racer-cats…
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Write too. The dishes will always be there. An hour or two wn’t make them worse.
The writer only gets better as it’s fed.