Manic Monday: Sundays are My Mondays

I love my life. All of a sudden, it’s mid-September and somehow things are in full swing. Yet, I don’t really feel like ripping my eyes out. That doesn’t usually happen until mid-December. Just in time for baby Jesus.

Why am I happy?  I’ll quote my boss, colleague, and friend, with whom I work at the college:

When you are doing what you love….it fills you. It doesn’t drain you, it fills you. 

Which is the exact sentiment I felt yesterday after these events transpired:

1. Typical Sunday morning church job, 8:30ish – 12:00ish. Lots of God, lots of warbling, lots of love. I may err on the side of agnostic, but I sure do love my church job, if not for the appreciation and musical support, then for the food. Always for the food.

2. Sang in a recital “The Singer” by Michael Head, which was ironic and sort of out-of-body-ish. Singing about singing: the true mind warp.

3. Accompanied a kid’s choir rehearsal. Told one of those slightly #WTH young’uns (you know, the kind who you never really have any idea what the hell they’re talking about) to step away from the Orff instruments, all the while pretending to know who “Aunt Lucy” is. I don’t know who Aunt Lucy is. wth.

4. Was on my way home from said rehearsal when my phone annoyingly pointed out a board meeting I forgot I had. When I set the event on my ical, I decided to know thyself and send a reminder to my phone 10 minutes beforehand. I read my own future by literally predicting that exact moment where I would go “I forgot I had this! Good thing I’m in the car. I’ll head over there now.” I should join the circus as a fortune teller.

5. Attended said board meeting, which involved preparing thousands of mailings uh-by-hand by taping them shut in three places with some strange little non-stickery-stickers that I dubbed “circle-y sticky things.” Pretty sure that’s their official name listed in the office supply catalog.

6. I stuck papers for 90 minutes before wimping out and needing sustenance. Most of the board had sort of dissipated by then with vague promises to return after meetings / dinner / etc. So I offered to take a box home and prepare them for our next meeting, which is later this week.


Then I spent four episodes of “The Blacklist” (that’s 160 minutes) in front of THIS:

do not be fooled by scale...there were a LOT of mailings...
do not be fooled by scale…there were a LOT of mailings…
not filmstrips...just the backs of the circle-y sticky things.
not filmstrips…just the backs of the circle-y sticky things.
damn you, circle-y sticky thing
damn you, circle-y sticky thing
can any amount of gin and ginger ale get me through this?
can any amount of gin and ginger ale get me through this?

I even dragged my husband into helping (those are his feet up there). He hadn’t quite memorized the muscle movements just yet, so he produced at 2/3 speed while I rudely and continually pointed out that my “complete” pile was bigger than his. The hilarious part is, we’re not even finished. There’s probably three more episodes’ worth of work. Is there a more efficient way to this? Hard to say. I do know we’re a small music series and the devil is in the details, and that most of the crazy stuff we’ve done like this has paid off in the end.

But you know what?

I’m doing what I love, and I feel fulfilled, not drained.

So many circle-y sticky things, only to be ripped apart in moments and very possibly tossed aside haphazardly…

I’m doing what I love.

…but wait, didn’t you see my perfect placement, one inch from the sides at the top, 1/2 an inch from the bottom?

And I feel fulfilled. Repeat to self.

…and I’m not even really being sarcastic…okay, maybe a little. But.

I’m doing what I love. Truly, I am.

Coming soon to a blog near you: the After Photos, in which I have “crazy eyes” and may appear partially drunk, swimming in a sea of empty filmstrip-esque papers. With circle-y sticky things in my hair.

Happy Manic Monday!

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