Monday, September 4, 2000

 

12:16 a.m. It's been a long Labor Day weekend, even though it feels as if it's over too soon. It's been very complicated, even though it feels as if it's slipped through my fingers so fast it's left rope burns. I'm glad it's over, and I wish this mini-vacation could go on forever.

First of all, let me warn you away from Wonka Shock Tarts, the candy. "Feel the power!" It says, right there on the package. I couldn't resist it. I did it. I felt the power, and you should see my tongue. It's all blue, which is appropriate for anything connected with the Wonka factory, I suppose. But it's also injured.

Maybe I should have read the ingredients before I started sucking on these most delicious little niblets of tangy sugar bits. Really -- should I have been eating carnauba wax? Isn't that used for cars? Little queasy in my stomach, here, and my tongue is a little bigger than it should be, I think.

In less than a week I've got a black-tie thing to go to and I hope my tongue heals up and returns to its normal size, because really. It's hard enough to accessorize and camouflage the things that already bulge out too far without having to worry about opening my mouth and having this -- thing -- flop out.

We were going to try to get to the boat this weekend, particularly because the rigging-cleat thing (pictured here) has been replaced with a new rigging-cleat thing and Igor was most anxious to try it out, but he's been tied to the home lines all weekend, with hardly a breath of fresh air.

So, no sailing and no fabulous Italian restaurant afterward. Just work, work, and more work. And did I mention that tomorrow officially starts the -- work -- week? Just in time. I am so wrung out already, I really don't know how I'm going to drag into this place again in a few hours. Where are the vacations? Where is the Laz-i-ladi that I can climb into and take for a spin?

Every single element of my life is tense and interconnected with every other element right now. Pull one sting and the whole web vibrates. And today I realized that I always think I'm in trouble, no matter what I happen to be doing. I don't know where it comes from, but I do know that it has got to stop.

Are you in trouble right this minute? For something you should have done an hour ago? For something you just did? For being born? Original sin? Doomed from the beginning? Me, too.

Is this piece too short? Yes. Does it end too abruptly? Yes, again. And you know what? I'm going to fret and worry about it and feel inadequate and generally wish I had a few more Wonka Shock Tarts to chew on, thus making me feel worse. And so it goes. Bring on the work week. I feel the power.