Is anyone else feeling a tad overwhelmed? I keep thinking, "Once I [insert insipid task here], I can relax and enjoy the holidays." And yet I am still not with the relaxing and the enjoying.
I had a stupid statistics textbook to proofread, due today. Not ONLY was it that fascinating topic, statistics, but it was about a computer software program to help you ANALYZE statistics. Wooooooooooooooooooooooooo! With the stimulating topic. So you can imagine how easy it was to read and actually pay attention to.
So I finally got that done, at 11 o'clock last night, shivering outside a FedEx drop box filling out the address label, when what do you think came today? MORE statistics to proofread! I am standing here beside myself.
I am grateful for the work, as I'm sure you can tell, but must it be 10 seconds before Christmastime? Because you can imagine how there is no work to be done at all at the church. Christmas? Not a big deal or anything over there.
Plus also beyond that incidentally, there is the whole MAKING OF THE GIFTS thing that I am STILL doing. Now, Marvin was a big help this weekend, when he wasn't disturbing my proofreading.
Let's pause from our broadcast to discuss pretty Marvin. For four years, I worked from home as a busy freelancer. And proofreading? Kind of a job that needs the concentration. I know I've said it before, but if they wrote it "Variables dialog box" on page 72, you had better ding-dang notice that it's suddenly "variable dialogue box" on page 97. There were four differences between those two phrases. Using your number 2 pencil, write 750 words on what they are.
So, every single day for four years -- because I assure you I never had a day off -- I used to say to Marvin, "I'm proofreading now. Do not disturb me." Who would get ants in his pantaloons the MINUTE I told him that? Suddenly he would begin his clogging practice, or he would open the door and stare at me, his mouth half open to show he was JUST ABOUT to say something, but didn't want to disturb me. Sometimes I would let him hang like that for 40 or 50 seconds before I would growl, "WHAT." And it was always, "I'm going to 7-Eleven. Do you want anything?"
Now I am back with the freelancing, and I can assure you Marvin's inability to leave me alone has not abated. Now when I'm done proofreading? He is always in the middle of a Who documentary and does not want to be disturbed.
However, he made a lovely stupid homemade gift for my mother, which took hours and I am glad he helped out. But folks? My Uncle Omar? I caved. I sent him golf balls. Hi, Uncle Omar! Merry Christmas! Surprise!
Uncle Omar golfs 750 hours a day. He went to Scotland to golf. Many times. What is it with men and the golfing? It grabs them like horses do women. Do you know any women who have horses? I know three. All of them are completely horse-addicted. And yet I know no women addicted to golf, and no men addicted to horses. Discuss. Number two pencils only.
So due to my Uncle Omar's love of the golf, I actually know his brand of golf ball. So I spent 4 minutes on line and $40 and got him said balls. Did you even know their WERE brands of golf balls? Why? Why don't they just have the "Round Small Hard White Ball Co." and be done with it? What possible difference could there be?
So, sorry, Uncle Omar, that I did not make your gift, even though you spent hours of your own time trying to teach me algebra in 10th grade. Girlfriend is pressed for time. Girlfriend has 20 million Christmas Eve bulletins to make, and 900,000 chocolate cookies for other relatives. Girlfriend knew you'd like you the golf balls. Girlfriend does not know why she must continue to refer to herself as "girlfriend," or even in the third person, for that matter.
I had better return to my proofreading, and then to a vestry meeting at the church in an hour. Oh! But I wanted to mention, in closing, that the one-year anniversary of me as a blogger came and went, on December 15. It is very exciting. Almost as exciting as a statistics textbook.