Get A Life... Take Mine, For Instance
I think I'm permanently welded to my 'office chair' now. I'm afraid to get up - the chair might come with me, riding along on my butt like some black leather leech out of "African Queen". And Katherine Hepburn isn't here to help me.
It feels like I've been here forever. It was okay when it was fishing lodge stories, I can handle that. But now it's transcript after transcript of lawyers - and worse, legal publication salesmen - blathering on and on about which is more accessible and useful: print or electronic information? Even more fascinating are the matters of storage and updating and access and blahblahblah until I want to decapitate myself with a legal pad. Or smash my head in with Black's Law Dictionary.
What's worse, the Vampire is all excited, because HIS career is doing just dandy, thank you. It's not currently a paid career - but it's loads of fun for him, and good experience for the portfolio. So we're heading into territory where conversations in our house will go as follows:
Me: Gawd, I'm exhausted. I just typed "hempeerdfplwx." I think my hands are going to fall off. I wish they would...
V: Want to do something different? I need a ride to the radio station, they want an interview.
Me: I would, but I can't see, everything's blurry. What are those blinky lights, floating around? I need new eyes, these ones suck.
V: Could you get off the internet? I need to call my publicist.
Me: Sure. I'll go take a nap. I'll trade it in for the hour of sleep I was planning to get tonight. Which way is my bedroom? I can't remember...
V: I need to go to the hair salon, too. They're going to televise me getting my hair cut.
Me: Shut up.
I'd tell you more about it, but I've got to go listen to this paralegal. She has something to tell me about filing treatise updates.
It feels like I've been here forever. It was okay when it was fishing lodge stories, I can handle that. But now it's transcript after transcript of lawyers - and worse, legal publication salesmen - blathering on and on about which is more accessible and useful: print or electronic information? Even more fascinating are the matters of storage and updating and access and blahblahblah until I want to decapitate myself with a legal pad. Or smash my head in with Black's Law Dictionary.
What's worse, the Vampire is all excited, because HIS career is doing just dandy, thank you. It's not currently a paid career - but it's loads of fun for him, and good experience for the portfolio. So we're heading into territory where conversations in our house will go as follows:
Me: Gawd, I'm exhausted. I just typed "hempeerdfplwx." I think my hands are going to fall off. I wish they would...
V: Want to do something different? I need a ride to the radio station, they want an interview.
Me: I would, but I can't see, everything's blurry. What are those blinky lights, floating around? I need new eyes, these ones suck.
V: Could you get off the internet? I need to call my publicist.
Me: Sure. I'll go take a nap. I'll trade it in for the hour of sleep I was planning to get tonight. Which way is my bedroom? I can't remember...
V: I need to go to the hair salon, too. They're going to televise me getting my hair cut.
Me: Shut up.
I'd tell you more about it, but I've got to go listen to this paralegal. She has something to tell me about filing treatise updates.
posted by Eileen at 4:29 PM
4 Comments:
Just remember that when the Vampire is famous you can bill him for all your time :) Publicist, chaffeur, career coach etc...
Sending you a great big hug. I am so tired at the moment I don't know whether I'm coming or going.
>> I want to decapitate myself with a legal pad.<< LOL. Ouch. Many ((HUGS)). It's hard enough being a working Mom. Harder still when your kid is working his way to possible stardom. Tell him he owes you BIG if he ever makes it big. ;)
But it's $$$ coming in, the dreary legal stuff, right?! :)
oh, my, sounds like me and Murray. E: "I am so tired blah blah bill x must be paid by date y" M: "this new bike trail I am hacking away at will be a great thing", etc.
Leeches are noble creechurs. They have a place in the greater order of things. They take down the weak. And the weakened. And prevent the weak from being a burden on those poor office chairs by causing them to sliiiiide off to the floor into semi-conscious carpet occupation.
This is what I do: I picture every chunk of typing being part of a grocery bill. Type 3 pages, "there's a bunch of leeks!", type 4 pages, "there's 5 minutes of heating for my office so I can type more leeks!" etc. 8-D
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