prep work

there is very little so angst-inducing as the final hours before a holiday. we're currently in the home stretch, with just under three hours to go before being sprung out of this office for four glorious days. and i know, just know that the next just under three hours are going to be among the longest of my life.

what is it about anticipation that makes time drag so? i recall my years in school purgatory, sitting through the last agonizing hour before spring break, feeling every tick of the clock with my heart, positively sick with desire to be freed from that purgatory. from this purgatory. and while today does not resonate with the same honey-sweet feel of a california spring (rather a crystalline sort of day, this is, complete with early morning snowfall), i want out. out! i want the freedom i earn by putting in my time here, but i want it NOW! and the exit bell, i hear its footsteps shuffling down the poorly-shod, fluorescent hall, is taking its sweet time.

when, really, i just want to leave this office, i want to feel the productivity and capability that i am not pouring into this terminal, into this place. i want to make something, i want to justify my existence, i want to go roll my fucking sushi, mix my peanut sauce, finish the whole grand sweet potato concoction so i have something to show for myself today. i am itching to go be a productive member of society.

and, as such, i'm going a little crazy here. just over two and a half hours to go. i can do this. it will feel like five hours, but i can do this. seriously. and when i'm away, i will let down my hair and kick up my combat-booted heels and cavort wildly in the flurries that are expected to return at sundown and start giving my thanks early, for being here, for being free, for being with these people and having these gifts to share and for having picked a damn good chosen family.

happy turkey day, my peaches. as i will be quite ensconced in biscuit's internet-free home for the duration, i extend my virtual hugs and air-kisses now. may this weekend be like your favorite sweater and pair of jeans--warm, comfortable, and giving of inexplicable amounts of joy just when those stilettos have driven you to your wit's end.

assuming, of course, we all make it through the interminable final hours of the day without doing anything rash, like nailing our hands to our desks out of frustration.