Where to Begin?

Our Awards show was on Monday.  I admit that the actual planning of the Awards show was much less insane than it was last year -- but the last few days before the show were as crazy as ever.  This was not only because I was co-producing the Awards show, but also because I was way busy at work.  And because I'd decided to go to London on Wednesday.

It had seemed like a good idea at the time.  Get all my work finished on Friday; do the Awards show on Monday; have Tuesday to do laundry, pay bills, and pack all leisurely; leave for London on Wednesday.

Yeah, right.  I was at work pretty late on Friday finishing up -- with London imminent, I didn't really have a "safety net" for finishing work after the Awards.  Awards stuff dominated Saturday and Sunday -- pretty late at night both nights -- 2:30 a.m., I think. After the Awards show itself on Monday (which was (a) way more ambitious than the show we did last year; and (b) really amazing), I didn't get home till around 1:00, and had to unpack my car.  (And had to watch "Dancing With the Stars" -- at least in Fast-Forward) and I didn't turn in until 4:00 a.m.  At which point, I promptly slept till about 4:00 p.m.

I needed it.  Don't get me wrong -- I really, really needed it.  But the day was shot.  No bill paying, no doing laundry, no packing leisurely.  I just about had enough time and energy to get dressed, eat dinner, go to my homeowners' association meeting, come back, watch 24, go back to sleep.

Wednesday, I woke bright and early at around noon.  Put in some laundry, tried to wrap up some Awards business (about 9 people won stuff at the silent auction but left before the auction closed -- so I had to call them all).  Wasn't till 3:30 that it really dawned that I had to leave for the airport at 5:00 and hadn't started packing yet.

There are two ways to pack.  There's the sane way, in which you make a list of everything you'll need based on the time that you're away.  You pile it all up on your bed, stick it all into those space bags, push all the air out, and neatly pack it in the smallest bag it all fits in.

And then there's the way you pack when you're leaving for the airport in an hour and a half.  You take the biggest suitcase you own, open it up on the floor, and keep throwing clothes in until it's full.  Then you're done.  It's packing on the principle that "as long as I have my passport and prescription meds, everything else is gravy."  Sure, I'd like to not have to buy everything abroad, but if I need to, I can. 

Out the door at 5:05.  The bills were unpaid, though.  I threw the bills and a couple blank checks in my suitcase, figuring I could buy some stamps at the airport and mail them there.

While waiting for the flight, I paid my Mastercard bill over the phone.  It was a race, as I was losing battery rapidly, and the automated voice system seemed to be taking it's own sweet time.  "Press 1 if this is correct; press 2 if you want to transfer a different amount."  I press 1.  She says "I did not recognize that command.  Press 1 if this is correct ..."  And I'm yelling, "I pressed 1, dammit!" and pounding on the "1" key.  Finally, I get a confirmation number just as the phone craps out.

Could not pay the other bills, though.  They don't sell stamps on this side of security.  Am now wondering which would be less late -- paying them when I get back or mailing them from London.

Ah well.  I'm here now; that's what matters.