SassyBlonde

The more things change, the more they stay the same.

People, today has been one of the most swing-of-the-pendulum days I've experienced in a long time (and that's saying something.) It started out with utter divorce from life, stress, and reality for a few hours, and then the world came crashing down on my head again.

This morning, I woke up early (!!!) and met a friend and we scuttled down to the Chesapeake Bay to go fossil hunting. During the drive down to the site we talked about life, the universe, and everything, and then tugged on our wading boots and sifted through millenia-old fragments of shells and coral in search of the shy and elusive fossil shark tooth. For three blissful hours I completely forgot about everything that's been going on in my life, absorbed in the freezing cold water and the waves and the sand and the multicolored chaos in my sand sifter. I laughed for no reason, forgot about being stressed out, and marveled at the wonder of holding a relic that no human being had ever touched, that had been quietly waiting in its dark cocoon of sand and soil for anywhere from five to twenty million years for me to come and find it. Even after I came home I still kind of floated in a sort of suspension of disbelief and stress release for a few hours, scrubbing my shells and taking a bubble bath.

And then the phone rang.

My boss, telling me that if we didn't find the necessary personnel for next week's concert by Friday, he was going to cancel it.

Why does everything with that group have to be so God damn hard? Apparently, because peoplehave been relying on our rather limited resources to find subs for them (which is not our job), now the whole group has to take a huge financial hit. It will cost us as much money to cancel the concert as it will to put it on at this point. Music rental, hall reservation, and all of the ad money. Gone.

I think I'm just going to move out to the Maryland shore and live in a lean-to. Life would be simpler. With all of the contemplation of the past today, I'm trying to be philosophical: this too shall pass, and one day my bones will be fossils in somebody's museum. No one will care if I end up looking like an ass for next week, they'll just look at my hip bones and say, "My, what a grand fat arse she must have had... I wonder what her life was like?" It's probably better that they'll have to wonder. So I'm not going to fret about it. It's not worth it. Life is too short to spend all your time freaking out about everything, as my friend pointed out today in a total pot-kettle moment.

I'm going to bed. I'll think about it tomorrow.