How I Spent My Day

I asked a number of people what their weekend plans were. Then, if they didn’t return the favor, I’d nudge them with, “Ask me what I’m doing.” “What are you doing?” “GOING TO PARIS. HAHAHAHAHAHA.” The last person responded with “I hate you, you evil bitch.” But with love.

While I was at a work meeting, someone changed my Microsoft Word default spell check language to French. I typed “run,” it suggested “rien.” Pretty good joke. Everyone denied it. Work people anticipate I will start an international incident. *

I alerted the neighbors that no one should be pulling a moving truck up to our house and emptying the contents.

I decided that while I’m there, I will make notes of full blogs to write when I returned, and instead I will be a photojournalist documenting the fattening food of France. Before it goes in my mouth, it will be captured on the blog. That way I’ll have blogfodder to fill in the next few weeks until the Jersey trip, the New Mexico trip, my work husband’s open house, Steven Page’s new album, the BNL concerts, and the holidays.

I checked and printed all my itineraries and confirmations. I cleaned my house, because I can’t stand coming home to a dirty house. I checked the dog’s reservations. I entrusted Gary with the copying and carrying of the passports.(Everyone deserves a second chance.)

BUT – I did not pack. I still haven’t packed. Gary has not packed. We both really want to go, even Gary wants to go. I think the issue is that packing puts me into that limbo between doing something and waiting for something. It would be as if there were fifteen minutes between when I arrived at an appointment and the scheduled appointment time. I would have to wait. If I pack my bags I will no longer be anticipating France, I will be waiting to go to France.

This is silly. I’m going to pack right now.

* Speaking of co-workers, today I quoted an apt description someone typed on Twitter, “She was such a good cook she could make gravy out of wiener water.” People (bosses) were aghast at my inappropriatude. “What?” I said, “Why? It’s the water you boil hot dogs in. Is it the word ‘Wiener’? Are you in junior high?” Later, when a man mentioned he knows how to make gravy out of wiener water I did make the wienerwater connection and realized it might have an extra nuance to a man’s ears.