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Six Easy Steps

This day just gets better and better!
Everyone watch Valette's stress meter peak!

1// B opens the bathroom door while I still had conditioner on my head and says, "Five minutes," meaning The Time We Are Leaving is in five minutes. I rushed to finish my shower and get some clothes on my body, grabbed my purse and camera and sweater, stepped into my sandals, and told him I was ready. He finishes the paragraph in his book, stands and stretches languorously, kisses my cheek and asks me how I am feeling while I glare at him, goes to the kitchen to pour his coffee down the sink, and then proceeds to lace up his work boots. Now, if he really meant five minutes, then WHY WAS HE NOT READY? This happens every time he has to take me to work and irritates me to no end.

2a// The graphics on the masthead got all jumbled when sending to the printer's shop, something I cannot even understand because .ps files aren't supposed to do that. So what's up? The layout person at the printer's shop and I have a long discussion, most of which went way over my head and caused me to feel supremely inadequate. I end up having to re-lay the whole thing out in Illustrator, a program I hardly know. I cannot find the features I want to use and decide to call my brother for emergency design help (a frequent occurrence).

3// I dial half of Damon's cell phone number before I remember that he moved! To California! I hunt for his new cell number, and realize I do. Not. Have it. I have it at home, but not at work. I stand up from my chair and talk 300 miles an hour while our poor bookkeeper tries to figure out why I am FREAKING OUT.

2b// How in the world do I convert from CMYK to spot colors in Illustrator? Hmm? I commence FREAKING OUT until I make do with what I can figure out on my own.

4// Jason, my insurance adjuster, calls on a cell phone with sketchy service and tells me between static that my car's rear door and bumper cover will be replaced completely, while the front door and back quarter panel can be merely repaired. They will do a "fast order" on the parts; the parts should be in in two to three days and my car will be ready in seven business days. When I ask if I could drive it before parts come in, I am told that they would then do a "slow order" and the parts would take five days to arrive. I am looking at another seven days of getting rides to work from my husband (see above).

5// I FREAK OUT some more and stomp across the street to get a frappuccino for me and a tan mocha for my supervisor. They do not take credit cards, and I have to use the $20 my supervisor gave me for both our drinks. I felt like my brother John: They don't take credit? What year is this!?

6// The RSVP list for a volunteer dinner tonight was grossly miscounted, so I had to print more of just about everything. Agendas. Response sheets. Name tags. CDs and labels. Contact sheets.

The only consolation is that B will be in a welding class for three hours tonight rendering the computer free for my own nefarious purposes. Please, God, let there be people online to entertain me.