I reeealy dislike alarm clocks on weekends. It’s not as if the RA allows me the luxury of “sleeping in” very often anyway, but arising at the demand of a chirpy-voice radio DJ or the beat of a C/W song should be exclusively a work-week activity! Still, I dutifully arose and put bare foot to cold floor at 7 this morning; it’s the third Saturday of the month, my day to “herd cats”, Club Day.
The morning challenge (of converting me from stiff/sore ogre to presentable human being) was rendered somewhat more problematical by yesterdays’ thorough ‘wetting and chilling’ episode. It was also accompanied by an on-going internal dialogue; “You have to attend, you’re the president”, “You can’t hold a hair brush, how are you going to hold an art knife”, “You need to be there to keep activities moving along”, “You haven’t even worked on the current project”, “You enjoy the social time with them”, ‘You’re not going to be pleasant to be around”, ”You have to do the two-week food shopping today, and you don’t have a menu or shopping list yet” and on it went.
This is an excerpt of 19/365 On the other hand
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