Time is short. No, really.
Me to someone on my commute: "Gosh, the bus is empty."
Them: "Wait until this time next week."
Me: "Why?"
Them: "Weekend before Christmas? It's gonna be a ghost town."
Me: "...crud."
Somehow I, in my infinite wisdom, had managed to insert another full week between now and Christmas. No, don't ask me how I managed that, because I don't know; most of the time my chronological inaccuracies run the other direction, with me forgetting that a week exists. Suddenly, all those little things that I have to get done have become a lot more important, because there are roughly seven fewer days than I thought to buffer them from me.
I need to...
1. Pack for Seattle.
2. Obtain plane tickets for Conflikt.
3. Make sure my travel arrangements for Boskone are handled.
4. Email my stunt guitarists for Boskone.
5. Send MP3s to Jeff for arrangement purposes.
6. Send MP3s to the Seattle crew for rehearsal purposes.
7. Record the last of the MP3s for the Seattle crew.
8. Get chords for the last of the songs for the Seattle crew.
9. Hyperventilate.
There's a whole lot of other stuff on that list, but these are the major things. (What's funny is that this comes right on the heels of my discovering that I had more time than I expected -- I started the week thinking my yuletide story was due on Friday, which was made real fun by the fact that I scrapped everything and started a new story on Monday.) I'm going to be achieving numbers 7 and 8 this coming Monday, and I can start hammering on the others as the opportunities arise (save for 9, which I can do any ol' time). But jeeeeeeeeeeez.
Memo to me for 2008: honey, you really, really need to go back to carrying your day planner, or get a page-a-day calendar planner, or something. Dates on the calendar are closer than you think they are.
Them: "Wait until this time next week."
Me: "Why?"
Them: "Weekend before Christmas? It's gonna be a ghost town."
Me: "...crud."
Somehow I, in my infinite wisdom, had managed to insert another full week between now and Christmas. No, don't ask me how I managed that, because I don't know; most of the time my chronological inaccuracies run the other direction, with me forgetting that a week exists. Suddenly, all those little things that I have to get done have become a lot more important, because there are roughly seven fewer days than I thought to buffer them from me.
I need to...
1. Pack for Seattle.
2. Obtain plane tickets for Conflikt.
3. Make sure my travel arrangements for Boskone are handled.
4. Email my stunt guitarists for Boskone.
5. Send MP3s to Jeff for arrangement purposes.
6. Send MP3s to the Seattle crew for rehearsal purposes.
7. Record the last of the MP3s for the Seattle crew.
8. Get chords for the last of the songs for the Seattle crew.
9. Hyperventilate.
There's a whole lot of other stuff on that list, but these are the major things. (What's funny is that this comes right on the heels of my discovering that I had more time than I expected -- I started the week thinking my yuletide story was due on Friday, which was made real fun by the fact that I scrapped everything and started a new story on Monday.) I'm going to be achieving numbers 7 and 8 this coming Monday, and I can start hammering on the others as the opportunities arise (save for 9, which I can do any ol' time). But jeeeeeeeeeeez.
Memo to me for 2008: honey, you really, really need to go back to carrying your day planner, or get a page-a-day calendar planner, or something. Dates on the calendar are closer than you think they are.