New Man In My Life

So I have a new man in my life... and he's staying at my house now and again. This is "Homme. Inachevé," my very first attempt at human sculpture. Because my work schedule no longer allowed me to enjoy my self-taught exploration in "Advanced Independent Study" on Monday afternoons, I decided I would sign up for a Tuesday night "Sculpting the Human Form" course with a rather odd-ballish, yet talented, local sculptor. Although his teaching methods could use some polishing, I'm glad that I elected to expand my horizons. My "man" is still very much a work in progress... just as my life is.

I must have temporarily lost my mind (again) when I agreed to take on another remodel job for my now four-time hiring client. Now that I'm lucky enough to have full-time hours, finding time to get this project done has been more of a pain in the ass then taping off a room. As usual, her handyman guy has failed to finish his work... well this time he has failed to show up at all; so I have been forced to alter the project plans and will be working until the very last possible minute on Wednesday night. The tenant moves in on Thursday. So help me... if I even consider taking on another side job before the end of the year, someone please punch me in the face and toss me into inpatient psychotherapy!

Having my own laundry-list of tasks (including laundry) to complete at my own home, I feel as though I'm cheating on myself by spending what little time I do have sprucing up some place else. I've also been fortunate enough to have been offered a 12-month extension, full time hours, and a raise I worked hard to earn at my "regular" job. This isn't the time to screw up by putting all of my energy into a temporary side gig! And honestly... I'd like to spend a day doing nothing, if I so choose!

Maybe if I had a little more time to spend with this new "man" in my life, or, perhaps a real one (gasp), I might feel less fragmented, and more... fulfilled.

But... Her Worth...

It's the busiest month of the year at work; so busy, that no one is allowed to take vacation during October. And I have committed to another remodel in my "spare" time that has a non-negotiable completion date of October 14th.

Before going to bed last night, I knew I was facing at least four straight hours of meetings first thing. So I went to bed early. Made sense to me. Unfortunately, my body didn't give a shit and decided I would think waking up at 2 a.m. would be a lot of fun. After two and half hours of misery, I drove off in the darkness to the "nearest" 24 hour pharmacy in search of relief... which happens to be clear across town.

I was able to sneak in about one hour of rest before my alarm clock began screaming at me. Fuck. I needed antibiotics; I desperately needed sleep, and had no groceries for lunch... let alone time for breakfast. My chances of having a "good" day were obsolete.

Since I somehow survived my meeting marathon without swearing at anyone, or falling asleep face first in a pile of papers I pretended to take notes on... I decided to do the right thing and get some damned groceries after work. Like most, I'm hyper aware of my finances and still brimming with a little paranoia that they might disappear in the night like the now-mythological "stable" job, so I've limited myself to bare necessities and eliminated "luxuries." Luxuries like things that aren't on sale, or name brand items.

Because I refuse to waste food (and money), I had to buy more syrup for the box of never-ending pancake mix I bought a few weeks ago. I found myself tired, miserable, and dizzy in the syrup aisle... trying to solve the riddle of what bottle to buy. And then, I realized that what I was really searching for was just a drop of simple joy. The simple joy that we find in sometimes the oddest of things... like a bottle of syrup.

When I was a little, and very impressionable, girl... Mrs. Butterworth fascinated me. I admit it, for a brief time in my life, I really believed that she could talk. I remember sitting at the breakfast table staring at "her," wondering what it took to get her to acknowledge me. Obviously, I'm easily amused; but I'm also easily able to find happiness in the simplest of things. So I made an executive decision, and decided that the fond childhood memory of Mrs. Butterworth giving me the silent treatment was well worth the extra 80 cents and I put her in my cart.

I've already gotten my 80 cents worth... When I got home, I was compelled to take her picture, look up the article revealing her mysterious first name, and find one of the old commercials that made me believe in her in the first place on Youtube. Wouldn't you know, her first name is "Joy." You see, it wasn't her price tag... but her worth, that was most important.

http://www.myfoxdc.com/dpp/news/dpgo_mrs_butterworths_first_name_revealed_lwf_20091002_3838749

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rFQTuIstI6w&feature=related