April 9, 2010

Benefits of living in a bad economy

I'm so happy it's Friday.

The office is pretty empty. Most of my co-workers are out of town for a big work event. It wasn't in the budget for my department to join them, for which I am very grateful.
I used to enjoy traveling for work, but this year I decided I didn't like it anymore. During the last trip there was a group of girls from the office that were intent on shuffling hotel rooms around so they got to be in the same room with their friends. The girl I was assigned to room with involved herself in the mayhem, which caused problems for me. The whole time I was thinking, It's one night. And it is work. Why does this feel like high school?

From that point on I decided I was going to either a. pay extra to have my own room, or b. find a way to get out of it.
Thanks to the economy, I didn't have to do either. I've become quite attached to my weekends.
Just to think, if times were better I would be on a tiny plane right now on my way to a stinky, smoky, skeevy casino in Biloxi, MS.
Instead I'll be meeting my dear friend Kristin at her adorable little house and walking over to Kirby Lane for dinner. After dinner we'll walk back to her picturesque abode and attempt to recover some old chairs while watching (what else?) a BBC series on Netflix.
And there isn't anything else I'd rather be doing tonight than just that!
Also, she and her husband Johnny have a pet ferret, that is the funniest little creature I've ever seen. She hops and chirps her way around the house, and it is rumored she keeps a stash of bottle corks somewhere inside the couch.
The rest of the non-working weekend involves game nights, IKEA, and espresso. Oh yes. A big cup of coffee on Saturday morning while I sit and soak in the non-workingness of my situation. And maybe a taco from El Primo.

I'll leave you with this excerpt from an email that I wrote yesterday. I feel like it accurately portrays a part of me that I can no longer keep secret from you, world. I understand if, once you've read this, you feel led to never return to this strange place ever again. (Names have been changed to protect the innocent. Except for Daniel. He isn't innocent and he can't be protected from this, because he married me).
The surprise party I went to last night was for Charlene and she loved her bowls. I felt kind of awkward because everyone else brought flowers, cards, or a bottle of wine and mine was this huge box. I do well in small groups, but I have some serious inner social anxiety at parties. People always laugh at me when I say that, but Daniel can tell and he agrees that I have some issues with awkwardness in large groups. He thinks it is funny and that it's something I inherit from my father. My mom is the complete opposite, and together they formed a strange cocktail of neuroses that manifests itself in my person.

Like, last night I got to the restaurant and was the first person there. I typically like to be early, but prefer to NOT be the first person to arrive at a party.

So I was standing there, with this large heavy box in my hands and there was nowhere to sit except at the bar. And the only seat was next to a rather large woman who had positioned her barstool in such a way that made wedging myself into the chair a very awkward and overly-familiar feat. Normally this would have been enough to deter my efforts, but the box was bulky and I was standing in a walkway in everyone's way. So I decided to go for it.

The room was warm, and once I was finally seated (after bumping into the woman's bulging backside several times, and many "oh, I'm sorry"s and "I beg your pardon"s and mean looks from over her shoulder), the back of my legs began to sweat against the leather chair cushion. This was half due to the warm room, and half due to the physical exertion it took to manuever into my seat. And of course, I was wearing white pants and started to feel self-conscious about the increasing moisture on my backside. To add to all of this, the crowd around the bar began to grow and people were reaching over me to grab their drinks or to pay, and I was feeling very over-whelmed by the whole scene. Personal. Space.

Needless to say, when people started to arrive I was frazzled and clammy and altogether not in a good place. And this sort of thing happens to me nearly everytime I go to large events. I try to be a relaxed, chill person. When I tell Daniel that he just laughs at me. I am easy going about some things, but I guess socially I'm just one big inward mess. And I feel I can share this with you; I hope we can still be friends.

1 comment:

  1. "The rest of the non-working weekend involves game nights, IKEA, and espresso"...and delivering some things to a family in Northeast Austin that I should have delivered last summer!!!

    love you, my dear.