Nothing quite like running face-first into post-vacation awfulness on the first day.
First, in the department of huge business-related drama that is bleeding over into everything else, I direct you to my latest Adamant blog update.
Second, tells me that she’s discovered that the evening she’s set as my birthday party is apparently also going to be the evening of the Charlesworth post-Heartland de-frag party. Lovely. So, of course, the choices there are: 1) have it anyway, and deal with the fact that some folks just won’t be showing up; 2) combine it and have it at Charlesworths, which means that there will be some folks there that I’m not particularly close to, thereby diluting the birthday factor; or 3) just cancel the damned thing. Yeah — not so much liking the birthday-as-source-of-stress thing.
Third — while I was at Heartland, I was notified that the powers-that-be at KCRF want me to come aboard as the Lord Mayor. As a person who remembers Tommy Atkins in this role, and how much he helped shape the day for his fellow performers, this is a HUGE temptation for me. Unfortunately, on the other side of that is working for folks who scuttled my stage show, and all of the usual bullshit that would inevitably result…plus my own physical limitations. To say that I’m conflicted about this would be a massive understatement.
Thankfully, I have been given a mantra which allows me to vent the frustrations of the above-listed issues: “Fuck a bunch of that.”
Doesn’t solve anything, of course. But still.